


When the Strangers Blew In

by Fox_Salz



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Asexual Character, Asexual Grunkle Ford, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Fiddleford H. McGucket, Trans Grunkle Ford, Trans Grunkle Stan, Trans Rick Sanchez, genre typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 73,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: Stanford and Stanley Pines dream of a different life. One where they're not just tidying their pa's shop or helping ma take care of the baby. Where they can live freely as the men they know they are, instead of pa hounding them to marry before they become spinsters. They get a taste of that possibility when two strangers blow into town, but with them comes a heap of trouble.





	1. Blaze the Trail

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally posting the first chapter of this! I'm pretty excited. As of right now you can expect a new chapter every Saturday (hopefully I can keep that up). 
> 
> Before you start reading, let me warn for some stuff. As you might expect there will be deadnaming and misgendering, and some time period accurate transphobia. The boys will also deal with a bit of dysphoria, though not a lot I don't think at this point. 
> 
> Also! This is rated 'M' because of some mild sexual content between Rick and Stan though there are no actual sex scenes, and some violence that happen later on. Expect some shoot outs, but nothing overly violent, I wouldn't say. Oh and the whole child abuse thing, but I will just say that the child abuse is mostly implied, except for maybe one future scene where it happens basically off screen. Just a heads up.

The stars were beautiful. Stanley couldn’t name them all like his brother, but he enjoyed listening to him map out the night sky. It was impressive how easily Stanford could recite them all. Soothing, too, to just lie back on the ground and let the familiar words he could never remember wash over him.

 

It also made it easier to pretend. These stolen moments were some of the only chances they got to be themselves. It was draining, day in day out, to have to answer to the wrong names, to have to watch everything they said. One slip up could spell absolute trouble.

 

Speaking of, night was starting to dwindle. With a groan Stanley pushed himself up.

 

“Come on, Sixer. Time to play dress up.”

 

Stanford took his twin’s outstretched hand reluctantly and allowed Stanley to pull him up. He dusted off before slowly packing their monster studying gear. He was stalling, Stanley knew, but didn’t hurry him up. He couldn’t blame Stanford for not wanting to go back yet—he didn’t want to, either.

 

Stanley took one last good look at the constellations while Stanford finished gathering their things. Then they walked back into the quiet little town.

 

The only place open at this hour was the saloon. Tonight it was as loud and vibrant as ever—which was to say not very. Gravity Falls was a simple town with simple people, and the people who passed through generally kept to themselves. In fact, the last time there was even a bar fight it had been Stanley’s fault, though he still insisted the other guy had it coming for disrespecting Carla.

 

The twins snuck up the back stairs leading to their friend’s room. A single candle was lit by her window, signaling that it was safe for them to enter. They tiptoed inside, careful not to wake her. They quickly switched into the dresses they had been wearing earlier, folding up their britches and shirts, and storing them in a secret compartment Carla kept for them in her wardrobe.

 

The sun was just starting to peek up over the horizon when they made it back home. Just as they reached the stairs, intent on slipping back into their room, they heard someone at the top. They shared a look of panic and hurried to the kitchen, Stanford shoving their knapsack out of sight. Soon their pa was rounding the corner.

 

He fixed them with a stern look and demanded, “Where are you two going at this hour?”

 

“Going?” Stanley repeated, putting on an air of confusion and indignation while Stanford froze behind him. “The only thing going here is breakfast.”

 

“Starting awfully early,” pa commented skeptically.

 

Stanley rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Pa, please, we’re trying to make Ma something special. Shermie was fussy all day yesterday, and we figured she could use a nice treat. ‘Sides, she had one of her bad migraines.”

 

“She never told me.”

 

“Well of course she ain’t gonna tell you, Pa! She knows you got enough to worry about. Now go back to bed, we’ll get you when breakfast’s ready,” Stanley told him, shooing the man out.

 

When they heard his bedroom door close the brothers sighed in unison and glanced at each other. Then they started snickering, covering their mouths to muffle the sound.

 

“Well, guess we better make breakfast,” Stanley said, stretching out a kink in his back. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

 

“It always is,” Stanford agreed with a yawn.

 

——

 

The day was dragging along like a stubborn mule. It was hardly high noon and the twins were exhausted. They were supposed to be watching and tidying the shop while pa was out. Instead Stanley was slumped over the counter while Stanford was perched on a nearby barrel shuffling a deck of cards.

 

“Do you think you can play without cheating for once?” Stanford teased.

 

“Hey, don’t act like I’m the only one, Sixer.”

 

“Counting cards is a legitimate tactic.”

 

Stanley snorted. He sat up as Stanford started dealing and checked out his hand. His highest was a jack.

 

He side-eyed his brother. Stanford was staring hard at his cards, grinning to himself. Stanley rolled his eyes; Stanford did not have a good poker face. He wasn’t good at lying in the least, truth be told, so it was a good thing he had Stanley.

 

“Gimme four,” Stanley said, slapping everything but the jack down.

 

Stanford’s grin only grew as he dealt him four new cards. “I think I’ll stay.”

 

“Read and weep, Sixer.”

 

Stanley revealed his hand, two jacks, triumphantly. Stanford laughed as he showed off his own pair of jacks. Amazingly enough the rest of their cards were identical, as well.

 

“Do you think that’s an omen?” Stanford wondered.

 

“Probably just a twin thing.” To himself Stanley muttered, “I should’ve cheated.”

 

Suddenly the front door opened, the bell ringing out and making their hearts race. Stanley quickly shoved all the cards under the counter while Stanford jumped to his feet and pretended to be cleaning.

 

Thankfully it wasn’t pa like they had feared, but some tall and skinny stranger that looked like he didn’t belong on the frontier at all.

 

“Oh, uh, hello,” the stranger squeaked.

 

Stanley couldn’t help grinning. He loved guys like this. You could sell anything to this type because they didn’t know any better.

 

“Greetings,” Stanford returned, spinning around and holding the feather duster behind his back with both hands.

 

“What can we do for you, stranger?”

 

The man took out a folded piece of paper, unfurling it as he crossed the store. Adjusting his spectacles he peered at the sheet for a moment.

 

“I should not have let Rick write this, it’s all chicken scratch,” he murmured. Then he looked up apologetically at the siblings. “Sorry, ma’am, I just need a few things.”

 

He rattled off the usual, like horse feed and rope which Stanford gathered up for him. Then oddly enough he asked if they had any spare metal pieces. He tried to be nonchalant about the request, but Stanley could see the nervousness plain on his face.

 

He glanced at his twin before leaning over the counter and staring the stranger right in the eye, putting on all his charm.

 

“Don’t think we got nothin’ like that, stranger. So what brings a nice man like you to town?”

 

“Ah, me an’ my partner are just passin’ through. The name’s Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.”

 

“The heck kinda name is ‘Hadron’?” Stanley wondered.

 

“Long story.”

 

Stanley glanced at his twin, chuckling. “Kinda cute, ain’t it, Sixer?”

 

“Lee!” Stanford admonished. “Don’t mind my b— _sister_ , she just likes to tease men she finds attractive.”

 

Stanley kicked him in the shin and he stumbled slightly before catching himself on the counter. His grin didn’t falter.

 

Fiddleford watched the two, unsure what to make of them. His cheeks were tinged pink.

 

“So, Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket, you and your partner cowboys or hopeful prospectors?” Stanley wondered while Stanford finished getting the order together.

 

“Neither, actually. We’re engineers. Least that’s what I call myself. Rick’s a mad scientist with his hands in all different sorts of jars. We’re just working on some inventions.”

 

“Real genius types, eh?” Stanley said, nudging Stanford. Stanford slapped him away.

 

“Here’s your order. Sorry we didn’t have everything you needed.”

 

“No worries, miss…I’m sorry, I never got your names,” Fiddleford realized.

 

Stanley threw an arm around Stanford and in unison they told him, “We’re the Pines twins.”

 

Fiddleford gave a soft laugh. “Of course. It was a pleasure meetin’ you both.”

 

He reached into his knapsack, and the twins got a glimpse of heavy text books, rolled up paper that had to be blueprints, and different tools. Stanley didn’t even have to look over at Stanford to know his eyes were gleaming. 

 

Fiddleford paid and grabbed his purchases. He started for the door, nearly dropping everything when he turned back to wave goodbye.

 

“Yeesh, good thing that guy’s got someone helping him out. He’d die in the desert if he was alone. Probably get dragged by his horse.”

 

“Did you see all those books?” Stanford gushed, not having heard a word Stanley said. “And all those tools! They didn’t look like they were falling apart at all. What I wouldn’t give to have something like that.”

 

Stanley frowned. His brother was intelligent, and had always had a passion for things like science and whatnot. Being born like they were, though, with everyone seeing them as girls didn’t give him any opportunity to pursue those passions. Whenever he could Stanley procured little things here and there. Nothing much, just spare tools nicked while no one was looking or the occasional book he got Carla to pick up in secret when she visited her family back east.

 

They had to keep it all hidden from Pa, of course.

 

“Wonder what they’re inventing,” Stanley commented mildly, not really curious at all.

 

“I’d love to know.” Then he started listing off possibilities that Stanley couldn’t keep track of.

 

“Hm. If we see him again I’ll snatch one of those books for you.”

 

“Stanley! We can’t just steal things!”

 

“You’re right,” Stanley agreed with an exaggerated sigh. Then he slapped the counter. “I know! We’ll just ask Pa! Wonder which he’ll get a kick out of more—the part where we ask him to spend money, or that we’re asking him to educate his _daughter._ ”

 

“Point taken. Just, only one book, please. Something light.”

 

“All that stuff’s the same to me, Sixer. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I’ll grab one of those fancy tools instead.”

 

He didn’t miss how Stanford’s eyes lit up. His brother may have morals, but he also had desires. Stanley opened his mouth to say as much when the door chimed again.

 

This time it was a pair of familiar, unwelcome faces.

 

“Ah, if it isn’t our favorite sisters.”

 

“The shining gal-boys of Gravity Falls!”

 

Stanley fixed the newcomers with a look of pure disgust. It was too early to deal with these clowns. 

 

“If you’re not buying something leave,” Stanley told them. “We’re busy.”

 

“No reason to get yourself all twisted up now, Leah,” Bud Gleeful chided.

 

“It’s terrible for a woman’s complexion,” Preston Northwest added.

 

Stanley clenched his fists behind the counter and gritted his teeth, trying hard not to retaliate either verbally or—what he really wanted to do—by punching them right in their smug faces. Oh, it was tempting, but he knew the consequences of that wouldn’t be pretty. He didn’t care so much on his part, it was Stanford he didn’t want to cause trouble for.

 

Stanford, who had inched behind him, whose eyes were averted from the others. He kept his hands hidden, subconsciously rubbing his extra fingers.

 

“Do you actually want something, besides to waste our time?” Stanley asked impatiently.

 

They came over to the counter, Preston sauntering in a manner that Stanley knew couldn’t be natural. It was probably something rich people learned in fancy boarding schools.

 

“Now, now, Leah. Girls like you should be honored to spend time with men such as ourselves.”

 

As he talked Preston examined his immaculate nails, huffing on what looked like a very expensive ring and polishing it on his neat jacket. Stanley eyed the jewelry, mentally pricing it.

 

“You should be honored I’m not slapping you across the face and throwing you out of our shop,” Stanley retorted.

 

“How rude!” Preston gasped in his irritating rich boy way.

 

Bud placed a hand on his shoulder saying, “Now, now, Leah does have a point. Two young women unsupervised around strong men must be absolutely overwhelming for them.”

 

The twins shared a look, faces scrunching up.

 

“Strong men?” Stanley repeated.

 

“Where?” Stanford wondered.

 

“If you see any send them our way.”

 

They burst into laughter as the other men fumed indignantly, both redder than a barn. Preston tried to say something but couldn’t make himself heard over the twins’ guffaws. They only quieted down when the door opened again. Then they quickly straightened when they saw who it was this time.

 

“Pa!” Stanley exclaimed.

 

Their father surveyed his shop with an unreadable expression, eyes hidden behind his dark eyeglasses. When he stopped on the twins his mouth fell into a stern line.

 

“Leah, Leanne!” he barked. Stanley and Stanford gulped. “You need to deliver some orders instead of standing around wasting time.”

 

Pa listed off who need what while the twins scurried around filling out the orders. The goods in hand they hurried out, avoiding directly looking at either their pa or the smirking Bud and Preston.

 

“Those jerks really know how to rile me up,” Stanley griped once they were safely out of earshot. “One day I’m really gonna knock ‘em down a peg.”

 

Stanford sighed, readjusting the boxes he held. A few slid around, threatening to fall down. Stanley noticed the difficult time he was having and took the top one.

 

“Thank you. Just forget about them, Lee. Preston and Bud aren’t worth getting worked up over.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s so aggravating! I know we’re twice the men they are even in dresses.”

 

Stanford snickered. “Careful with that comparison, Lee. Nothing twice over is still nothing.”

 

Stanley whooped, nearly dropping his packages. It took a minute for him to calm down.

 

They finished their deliveries as quickly as they could, hoping for a chance to visit Carla before returning to the store.

 

“All I’m saying, Sixer, is that there’s nothing for us in this town.”

 

“But where would we go?” Stanford asked, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. It fell right back, managing to sneak behind his eyeglasses and poke his eye.

 

“Hold on,” Stanley said, reaching over and pinning the stubborn lock back with the rest of his hair. “There. Now, as I was saying, anywhere.”

 

“That’s a bit broad, don’t you think?”

 

Stanley started walking again, looking back at his brother.

 

“The broader the better! It’s boring here, and it’s, you know… _stifling_.”

 

“Watch it, Lee.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not saying anything incriminating.”

 

“No, I mean—“

 

“ _Oof_!”

 

“—watch where you’re going.”

 

Stanley lifted himself up enough to see who he had run into. It was the second strange face he’d encountered that day. This one was more his type.

 

First thing Stanley noticed was the stranger’s hair. Of all colors it was a pale blue. It looked natural on the guy, oddly enough. That was probably helped by his one long eyebrow colored the same.

 

“Sorry there, cowboy,” Stanley said, not sounding sorry in the least.

 

“You g-gonna get off me, lady?”

 

Stanley smirked and told him, “If that’s what you really want.”

 

He got to his feet and straightened out his dress absentmindedly. He was more focused on sneaking a peek at this unconventional looking stranger.

 

He was a head taller than Stanley, and possibly even scrawnier than that Fiddleford had been, but he wore it well. He stood like someone who didn’t care about the opinions of the folks around him, and none of Fiddleford’s nervousness was present in this new stranger.

 

Stanley also didn’t miss the way he shamelessly looked him up and down.

 

The stranger leaned casually agains the horse post and tipped his hat at Stanley. As an afterthought he did the same to Stanford, though he barely glanced away from the former.

 

“I am awful sorry for runnin’ into you, mister. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

 

He heard Stanford sigh behind him but paid his brother no mind.

 

“You can start by telling me your name.”

 

“Without offering yours first?” Stanley returned with faux incredulity.

 

“Rick Sanchez,” the stranger offered.

 

“Well, Rick Sanchez, we’re the Pines twins.” Stanley stepped closer to the man. “So how long are you in town for?”

 

“Not l-l-long at all, Pines. An-anything to do in this place for fun?”

 

“I can think of a few things. Stick around a day or two and maybe I’ll show you around.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Rick grinned. “I might have to take you up on that offer.”

 

Stanley winked before abruptly turning around and walking back to Stanford. He took his brother by the arm calling back, “See you around, Rick Sanchez.”

 

“Don’t I get a-a-a first name?”

 

“Ya gotta earn it.”

 

With that the twins walked off, leaving the other man there by himself. Stanley could feel his eyes watch them go.

 

“Stanley, no.”

 

“What did I do?”

 

Stanford gave him a dry look. “I know what you’re thinking.”

 

“All I’m thinking is that I might like to get to know this Rick Sanchez better.”

 

“Do not pursue this guy. Remember the last cowboy you ‘got to know’?”

 

Stanley huffed, looking away and crossing his arms indignantly. “It worked itself out.”

 

“The Sprott barn caught on fire.”

 

“But he left town quietly—“

 

“He was yelling how in love with you he was and how you were a no good heartbreaker,” Stanford interjected. Stanley stoutly ignored him, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

 

“Everything turned out fine. Don’t worry so much, Sixer. I’ll have a little fun, he’ll have a little fun, and no one will get hurt.”

 

“Words for your tombstone,” Stanford muttered.


	2. It's A Long Way Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins go to visit Carla, but run into those strangers again. They leave the poor boys speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be the shortest chapter the story will ever have. Yet it has one of my favorite scenes.

“Do di do do, brushing my horse,” Stanley sand, bringing the brush down his horse’s mane. Chestnut nayed happily.

 

Stanford hummed along to the nonsensical melody. His horse, Astra, snorted almost as if laughing at the other pair.

 

It was a rare evening where they had no more chores, and Ma didn’t need help with the baby. Pa hadn’t even been able to scrounge up some task to keep them busy so they were left to their own devices. They had decided to bring their horses out of the small stable and give them some proper exercise, and now were brushing the happy beasts.

 

The sun was beginning to wane, and the boys were waiting for it to disappear altogether. They planned on convincing Carla to come to their secret spot with them. Mostly because they wanted to see what she knew about the strangers. If anyone could get them information on someone in Gravity Falls, whether a townsperson or someone just passing through, it was her.

 

Stanford was familiar with the way Stanley obsessed with something he had his eye on—or someone, as was the case. Truthfully Stanford was curious, too, especially if it meant a chance to spend time with intellectually and scientifically inclined men like himself. That Fiddleford had seemed nice enough that maybe he wouldn’t write him off just because of the _assets_ he’d been born with. 

 

Stanley’s song abruptly halted. His twin let out a sound of disgust, drawing Stanford’s attention. When he realized what had aggravated Stanley, Stanford mimicked him.

 

“Why look, Preston! Our two favorite sparrows!”

 

“Ah! What a perfect end to an already lovely day.”

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Stanley wondered. “We do.”

 

Preston and Bud stopped in front of the twins. Their horses fidgeted unhappily. Stanford placed a calming hand on both Astra and Chestnut while Stanley stared hard at the unwelcome men. Unfortunately they didn’t take the hint.

 

“Tell me, Leah, do you two ever think about the future?” Bud asked. The twins quirked an eyebrow.

 

“You mean a future without you two bugging us all the time? That’d be my dream come true.” Stanford nodded.

 

“Please, ladies, there’s no reason to pretend you don’t enjoy our company,” Preston said. “We’re in Oregon, not the Puritan east.”

 

“It’s perfectly normal for two strapping gals such as yourselves to notice the finest bachelors in Gravity Falls,” Bud added.

 

Stanley’s mouth had fallen just a bit. He glanced over at his brother whose own mouth was in a thin, perplexed frown.

 

“I don’t even know what to say.”

 

“I feel ill,” Stanford agreed.

 

Stanley turned back to the obnoxious pair, biting back the usual urge to hit them. It was difficult due to the self-satisfied expression they shared.

 

“Get out of here before we make ya.”

 

Taking a pocket watch out and pretending to notice the time Preston replied, “Yes, it is getting quite late. We have important business to take care of.” He snapped the watch shut and looked pointedly at the twins. “And you two will be needing your beauty rest soon, most definitely.”

 

“Sleep tight, ladies.”

 

When they were out of sight the brothers turned to each other.

 

“I think that might have been weird,” Stanford commented.

 

“Very weird,” Stanley agreed.

 

“Were they flirting or insulting us?”

 

“No idea.”

 

——

 

Carla wasn’t in her room when they snuck in. There had been a candle in the window, however, so they decided to get changed while waiting for her.

 

“Stanley, I’m only saying this because I’m your older brother and I care about you.”

 

“We are twins.”

 

“And one of us came out first. That was me.”

 

Stanley just rolled his eyes; they’d had this exact argument since they were old enough to talk and they’d be having it on their death beds.

 

“Listen, Sixer,” Stanley told him, buttoning up his shirt, “ya gotta stop worrying. I swear this time things’ll be different. No accidental fires.”

 

Stanford looked like he didn’t quite believe him. Stanley would have been offended if it was anyone else. He had to admit that he had given Stanford reasons in the past to worry. Stanley did have a small tendency to let things get out of hand. But as long as pa didn’t find out, no harm done.

 

“Alright,” he continued, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically, “so in the past we made some— _I_ made some bad decisions with strange men. We can’t all be attracted to safe men we know we’ll never get to act out our attraction to.”

 

Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

 

“I’ve heard you gush about Tesla.”

 

Stanford instantly straightened, a deep blush spreading over his cheeks. “That is an appreciation for a brilliant man of science!”

 

“Whatever you say, Sixer.”

 

There was another denial on the tip of his tongue, but then his undone pants started to fall down and he quickly pulled them back up. Then the conversation was really cut short when the door opened.

 

“You saucy minx, when c’n I open my eyes?” a male voice slurred.

 

“You’re so cute when you’re—” Carla paused, eyes widening at the sight of the half dressed twins.

 

She stood in the doorway in shock, the boys mimicking her expression. For a moment they all stared at each other, unsure of what to do until the man spoke again.

 

“Wha’s th’ hold up, darlin’?” He reached for the blindfold around his head and Carla slapped his hand away.

 

Flipping seamlessly back into flirtatious mode she chided, “I didn’t say you could take that off yet, silly!”

 

The drunk grinned. Carla led him by the arm, sidestepping the twins to the bed. She frantically motioned to the door and they tiptoed out into the hallway, holding their clothes in place.

 

There was someone coming up the stairs and they scurried into the nearby room that no one ever staid in.

 

Except for tonight, apparently.

 

Stanley pressed his back firmly against the door as they stared at the two gobsmacked strangers. Did they really still count as strangers if he knew their names? Either way Stanley became distinctly aware that he was not wearing pants.

 

“What in tarnation!” Fiddleford exclaimed. His hands had flown up to his chest, bare save for some tight cloth around his breast.

 

Surprise turned to a smirk as Rick realized, “I know you.”

 

“Glad you remember, buddy.” Stanley put his hands on his hips. “What? See something you like?”

 

Stanley guessed the answer was a resounding _yes_ , judging by the way Rick leered.

 

“We’ve got places to be, important things to do,” Stanley told them, growing red under the intense gaze. “No time to stick around, boys.”

 

Stanley started for the other side of the room where the window was. Stanford was on his heels, but stopped abruptly when something on the bed caught his eye.

 

“Is that an induction motor?”

 

“Oh, um, yes it is,” Fiddleford confirmed. “Made it myself.”

 

“Priorities, Stanford!” Stanley reminded, pointing out his lack of pants and Stanford’s own undone trousers.

 

Instantly mortified Stanford hurried to the window. There were no stairs attached like Carla’s room, but there was an awning below, and it wasn’t that far a drop. Stanford glanced back at Stanley and silently they agreed. Stanford slipped out the window first, sliding down the side slowly and letting himself drop just a foot above the awning.

 

“Night boys,” Stanley said before following his brother out.

 

He landed with a plop next to Stanford, jostling the awning and almost shaking him off. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

 

Rick and Fiddleford peeked out the window. The twins laughed harder and waved up at them. Then they climbed down the awning, aware of the strangers still watching. They headed down the dark street resisting the urge to glance back.

 

“Our second impression was even better than the first,” Stanley declared triumphantly, clapping Stanford on the back.

 

“They certainly won’t forget us,” Stanford agreed, adjusting his glasses. “Aren’t you afraid they might, um, raise the alarm about our attire, though?”

 

“Sixer, they’re just a couple of men passing through a strange town. You really think they’re gonna stick their noses in other people’s business?”

 

“I suppose not.”

 

“So relax! And I know just what’ll help you with that.”

 

Stanley brandished a small contraption that made Stanford’s face light up. He took it reverently, turning it over in his hands with a quizzical eye.

 

“Stanley! I…I have no idea what this is.”

 

“Great! You love puzzles. You’re welcome.”

 

“Thank you, Stanley,” he said genuinely. “But this seems like something they would miss. If they come after us for it—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you can say you told me so,” Stanley waved off. “I just see it as an excuse to _really_ make their acquaintance again if you know what I mean.”

 

“Unfortunately. Though I have to admit I am intrigued by this gadget. It seems to be another motor of sorts. I’d love the opportunity to talk to that Fiddleford about it while you, ah, pursue Rick.”

 

“See? It’s perfect! Now let’s go enjoy the rest of the night.”

 

“You’re still not wearing pants.”

 

“Don’t need them. Race you.”

 

Stanley was off in a flash and Stanford hurried after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's more substantial interaction between the four next chapter. Think of this as a brief interlude.


	3. Trouble On The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Stanford confront the strangers about the strange motor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, real interaction between the twins, and Rick and Fidds!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: There’s a bar fight, though nothing too graphic, and some anti-sex worker slurs thrown about. Also Filbrick’s an ass as per usual.

Since they were young Stanley had been the one to come up with wild, dangerous ideas. Well, he insisted that Stanford was just as bad but Stanford would vehemently deny that with his last breath. The magnet incident didn't count. Or the syrup incident. Maybe the destruction at the fair two years ago could be pinned on him but that was it.

 

The point being, Stanley had another wild, dangerous idea.

 

“Come on, Sixer!” It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

 

“Yes, but the key difference is that this time two people we’re unfamiliar with will know it’s us. Two men you stole from, I might add.”

 

“ _I might add_ that you’re the one who wanted to talk science stuff with these guys. They’re not gonna raise the alarm or anything. And if they try I’ll pop them across the face and we’ll skedaddle.”

 

“Punching cannot solve all our problems, Stanley.”

 

“But it can a lot of them! You never know until you try.”

 

Stanford rubbed his throbbing temples.

 

“And if someone else questions where we were?”

 

“I already talked to Susan. She’s home taking care of her little siblings while her ma’s resting in bed. She said she’d tell everyone we were helping her if anyone asked. So what do you say, Sixer?”

 

Stanford mulled it over. he begrudgingly admitted to himself that it seemed like a solid enough plan. Not to mention he was brimming with curiosity. He had taken a look at the motor Stanley had stolen, and it raised so many questions. It was like nothing he had ever encountered!

 

Finally he sighed and relented.

 

“Fine. But mark my words, Stanley, if things go belly up I’m putting my foot down.” Stanford poked him in the chest. “If this doesn’t go well, you will never flirt with another strange man who just blows into town.”

 

Stanley’s eyes widened at the threat. “Come on, Stanford, think reasonably. What else would I do, woo Preston Northwest?”

 

Stanford shuddered. “He and Bud really are the only bachelors in town, aren’t they?”

 

“Yup. It’s slim pickings, and I’d rather go hungry.”

 

“Ugh, I don’t even want to imagine that. Let’s just go.”

 

It was true that occasionally the twins would disguise themselves as outsiders and mosey into the saloon. Most people in town leaned towards the unobservant type and never realized it was them. Of course they couldn’t just wander willy-nilly around Gravity Falls like that. Pa would recognize them, if no one else did.

 

They snuck around the back of the saloon and up the stairs to Carla’s room. Stanley peeked in first and, after giving the all clear, they climbed inside.

 

This time they were able to get changed without incident. Stanford even pulled on the special six fingered gloves he had painstakingly sown himself. For some reason they helped conceal his extra digits. Hiding in plain sight, he supposed.

 

Going back out and entering the front of the saloon would draw too much attention to themselves, so they made sure the hallway was empty then walked down the stairs like they had every right to be there.

 

The place wasn’t too crowded. There were the usual lumberjacks and some of the village men who popped in for an afternoon shot before returning to work. Carla was serving drinks and hadn’t spotted them yet.

 

The strangers stood out. Even without the striking blue hair Stanley felt like he’d be able to find Rick Sanchez. There was just something about him that drew the eye. His partner was memorable, too, but Rick just stole the show.

 

“Ready to have some fun, Sixer?”

 

“Please don’t turn this into one of your things,” Stanford implored.

 

“No idea what you mean. C’mon.”

 

Stanley slapped him on the back, knocking his glasses askew, and sauntered over to the bar. He took the stool next to Rick while his brother took the one next to Fiddleford, sandwiching the strangers between them.

 

“How ‘bout some whiskey for me and my friends here, barkeep?” Stanley ordered. As a bottle and four glasses were placed on the counter Stanley turned to the other men. “Fancy running into you again.”

 

Grinning Rick poured them all a shot. “What did I-I tell you, Fidds?”

 

“Not another word, Sanchez,” he groused. Fiddleford angrily picked up a glass and threw his head back. Rick just chuckled.

 

Stanley leaned back and said, “Stanford, I don’t think he’s happy to see us.”

 

“No,” Fiddleford assured, “it’s a pleasure ta meet you two again—I just lost a bet. You both have a flair for surprises, don’t’cha?”

 

The twins shrugged.

 

“It’s in the blood. So, genius types,” Stanley started, taking Rick’s shot glass and drinking it himself. “Enjoying our town so far?”

 

“Oh, I’m definitely enjoying some of the sights.”

 

“Rick, if this turns into Wyoming all over again I swear—“ Fiddleford warned.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick waved off. “You’re not a preacher’s kid, right?” Stanley shook his head. “Then there’s no reason to worry, Fidds.”

 

“With you there’s always a reason to worry,” Fiddleford replied, though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He glanced at Stanford. “Now, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but aren’t you afraid of being spotted?”

 

“Everyone in here is drinking,” Stanford pointed out, “and even without alcohol they’re rather, ah—“

 

“Can’t put two an’ two together,” Stanley finished.

 

“We have a few questions,” Stanford said, trying to steer things into the direction he really cared about.

 

“Like what are you doing tonight?”

 

“ _No_. I’m wondering about that motor you said you built. This one.”

 

Stanford reached into his jacket and pulled out the palm sized contraption. Fiddleford’s eyes widened and he smacked Rick’s arm. His partner tore his attention away from Stanley and examined the other twin. His eyebrow quirked up.

 

“Well fuck, now I lot a bet. H-how’d you even get that, kid?”

 

“I’m pretty talented with my hands,” Stanley informed with a wink.

 

“This is an absolutely fascinating piece of machinery!” Stanford gushed before they could continue flirting.

 

“Well shucks, I’m glad you think so, but it’s a rather dangerous little doohickey. If’n you don’t mind handing that over I’d be much obliged.”

 

Fiddleford reached for the device but Stanford quickly snatched it out of reach.

 

“Hey, you’re the ones who lost it,” Stanley said. “You can’t just have it back so easy.”

 

“You stole it,” Rick pointed out.

 

“Fair and square. You should keep better track of your things if they’re so important.”

 

“It’s amazing, yet completely baffling,” Stanford continued. “I took it apart last night—”

 

“You what!” Rick exclaimed, both he and Fiddleford paling.

 

“I can assure you I put it all back together. Look, it still works.”

 

Stanford started it up and it whirred to life. Stanley snickered at their slack jaws.

 

“Wasn’t there a-a-ah clanking sound before?” Rick asked.

 

Sheepishly Stanford admitted, “I may have tinkered with it. But just a bit! It still functions like it did.”

 

The men shared a look of disbelief, then slowly a grin spread across Rick’s face.

 

“Y-you Pines twins really are something.”

 

“They are,” a feminine, and very cross, voice interjected. Carla tapped her foot impatiently, shooting either twin a glare that could peel paint.

 

“Hello, Carla,” Stanford greeted, tucking the motor back into his jacket.

 

“How’s my favorite gal?” Stanley asked, making her roll her eyes.

 

“Don’t ‘favorite gal’ me, Stanley.” She looked around her to make sure there was no one listening in. “What’s going on here?”

 

“Relax, these guys, uh stumbled onto our secret.”

 

“Other way around,” Rick snickered.

 

Carla sighed. “You two will be the death of me.” Then she gave a mischievous little grin. “There’s an empty table in the back if you boys want something a little more _private_.”

 

“Don’t encourage him, Carla,” Stanford said, but it was too late.

 

Stanley was already on his feet, motioning Rick to follow. He readily did, and the other two had no choice.

 

Carla led the way through the saloon. When he passed a particularly crowded and rambunctious table one of the men tilted back his chair, knocking into her and sending his beer flying. It splashed down the front of Stanley’s shirt.

 

“Hey, watch it, buddy!”

 

The drunk laughed. With a growl Stanley grabbed him roughly.

 

“I think you owe this lady an’ me an apology.”

 

“Stanley,” Carla warned.

 

“I don’t owe no ugly whore or some trashy cowboy nuthin’.”

 

Carla and Stanley narrowed their eyes in a frighteningly similar fashion. Stanford had time to sigh and prepare for the inevitable before Stanley reeled back and socked the drunk across his face.

 

“Every single time,” Stanford muttered to himself.

 

The rest of the drunk’s companions jumped up and chaos erupted. One swung at Stanley, but thankfully he managed to dodge to the side. The guy left himself open so Stanley elbowed him hard in the ribs. He stumbled back, clutching his abdomen.

 

“Stanley!”

 

He turned just in time to see Rick tackle a guy that had been trying to sneak up on him. They tumbled to the floor, Rick on top.

 

Seeing that he could probably handle himself against one drunk Stanley quickly surveyed the others. Carla had stomped on a man’s foot and, having taken him by surprise, tipped him back into another drunk. He knew she was perfectly fine.

 

His brother and the engineer, however, weren’t.

 

Fiddleford had apparently stepped in front of Stanford gallantly, and surprisingly seemed like he could take a drunk no problem. Except it was a problem because he was grappling with more than one. Which left Stanford to defend himself against another attacker.

 

Stanley charged, knocking the man away from his brother. The guy swung at him, but after one swift kick to the groin he was writhing on the floor.

 

Before he could check on Stanford another saloon girl, Darlene, called out, “Carla, the sheriff’s on his way.”

 

“That’s our cue,” Stanley said.

 

With Stanford hot on his heels Stanley made for the back exit, plucking Rick and Fiddleford up on the way. Carla was already opening the door and ushered them out.

 

“Don’t think we’re not discussing this later,” Carla warned, looking between the twins and outsiders.

 

“Sorry about the mess, Carla. I’ll make it up to you,” Stanley promised, winking. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Go before you get arrested.”

 

They took her advice, the four racing down the backs of shops until they were a good distance away from the saloon. Stanley leaned against a building and Rick did the same, unnecessarily close. He grinned over at Stanley and soon they were both laughing.

 

“Well, that could have ended much worse,” Fiddleford commented, rubbing his bruised knuckles. “I hate fighting.”

 

“Agreed. Ah! You never got the chance to explain the motor to us,” Stanford realized.

 

Straightening Rick said, “T-tell you what, kid, we’ll let you in on what we’re working on—but not here. You hah-have some place a bit more private?”

 

“Sure we do,” Stanley answered. He went over to his brother, purposefully slow to give Rick a good look. Then he turned and threw an arm around Stanford’s shoulder. “It’s just outside town, up on the cliff. Be there about midnight.”

 

“Uh, could we get more directions than that?”

 

“You’ll find it. Don’t be late.”

 

They started back for the saloon. Stanford held up a hand, silently counting down. He was lowing his sixth finger when the other men called out for them.

 

“Wait, the motor!”

 

“See you at midnight,” the twins chimed.

 

——

 

They hadn’t planned on staying out so late, but time had gotten away from them. They had wasted a lot of it sneaking the long way around to Susan’s, then heading home from there so as to not arouse suspicion.

 

As soon as they walked in Pa fixed them with a hard, disapproving look. The twins squirmed under his gaze.

 

“Evening ma, pa,” Stanley said, giving an awkward smile he hoped would dispel some of his father’s displeasure.

 

“Sorry we’re late. Susan sent some stew.” Stanford held up the pot.

 

“Aww, how thoughtful,” ma replied. She came over and handed Shermie to Stanley before taking the stew.

 

Stanley ticked the baby under his chin, eliciting a happy giggle. “Miss us, little guy?”

 

“Shermie always misses his big sisters,” Ma said, pecking one of his chubby little cheeks.

 

Pa snorted. “Not very good sisters or women, looking like disheveled whores.”

 

“Filbrick Pines!” Ma admonished.

 

“Yeesh, pa, our hair’s just a bit out of place. We were busy today.”

 

Pa muttered something indecipherable and turned back to his pipe. Ma sighed and guided them into the kitchen.

 

“Don’t listen to pa, he’s just in one of his moods. He’s got a crazy idea in his head and I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him.”

 

The twins shared a worried look.

 

“What kind of idea, ma?”

 

“Oh nothing to worry about, girls.” She smiled over her shoulder at them, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Leanne, be a dear and get out the bowls while I warm this stew up.”

 

Stanford made to obey. Then ma rounded on the twins and said something that almost made them drop the baby and bowls respectively.

 

“So, are you sweet on anyone?”

 

“Ma!” Stanford squeaked, face pink.

 

“What? I’m your mother, you can tell me these things.”

 

Stanley gave a nervous chuckle. “What are you talking about, ma? We ain’t sweet on no one. You seen the men around this place? I’d rather die a spinster.” Stanford nodded adamantly.

 

“Sp’nstah!” Shermie repeated happily.

 

Ma laughed and shook her head fondly. “I can’t blame you. You know, I had seven suitors before your pa swept me off my feet. He always knew how to wear that jacket. He looked damn fine.”

 

There were twin exclamations of, “Ma!” but she only chuckled.

 

“You two just let me know when a cute boy steals your heart. I meant it when I said you could talk to me.”

 

“Yes, ma,” Stanford replied, cheeks still an embarrassed red.

 

“We know. Just don’t get your hopes up or nothing.”

 

Ma chuckled again and focused back on the food.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it really be a western without a bar fight? Probably but have one anyway.


	4. Hope Is Our Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins meet Rick and Fiddleford in the forest, and find out some interesting things about these strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More interaction between our boys. I swear the chapters get longer soon. 
> 
> Oh, and happy new year!

Chapter 4— Hope Is Our Gravity

 

Stanford rattled off the constellations, voice anxious as they waited. Stanley let the words buzz around like white noise while he kept an ear out for their expected visitors. For a good twenty minutes they’d been jumping at every sound, and Stanley was starting to get impatient.

 

It took him a moment to realize his brother had fallen silent. He glanced down at Stanford. His face was scrunched up and he could tell plain as day he was worried. Stanley nudged him.

 

“Geez, these guys sure like to take their time, huh?”

 

His good humor was thankfully infectious and Stanford grinned back. He sat up, saying, “We might get hypothermia before they show up.”

 

Stanley snickered, then they lapsed into silence. It was broken by a high pitched scream.

 

“Do you think we should have warned them about the gnomes?”

 

“Nah. If they can’t handle the forest they can’t handle us.”

 

The brothers waited, and not five minutes later two figures were standing above them. The twins grinned up and Stanley motioned for them to take a seat. They staid standing.

 

“F-f-fucking thanks for telling us about the haunted forest,” Rick groused, taking a sip from a flask.

 

“Only part of it is haunted,” Stanford informed. “The rest is just inhabited by supernatural creatures.”

 

“Yes, I found that out when a tiny man bit me,” Fiddleford replied, holding up his arm for them to see the teeth marks. Stanley whistled.

 

“You’re taking the existence of supernatural creatures rather well,” Stanford noted.

 

“We’ve, ah, dealt with strange beasts before.”

 

“Really? Where? What happened? Were they gnomes or something else? Maybe a flying creature? Or a sea monster?”

 

In unison the pair said, “Long story.”

 

Rick finally plopped down close to Stanley, tucking his flask away. With a sigh Fiddleford followed suit, sitting across from the other brother.

 

“Sorry about your arm. Those gnomes have a vendetta against us,” Stanford said.

 

“Why in heavens’ name is that?”

 

“Long story,” the twins chimed as one.

 

Before they could worry too much about that Stanley leaned forward on his elbow and winked at Rick. “Glad you geniuses found us.”

 

Rick took in the outfits they had on. He grinned wide and asked, “So are you gals dressing like men, or are you men like us?”

 

Shocked, the twins glanced at each other.

 

“Rick, I thought we were going ta ease into that question. You know how scandalizing this can be.”

 

“I never agreed to anything. So which is it, Pines twins?”

 

“Hold on, ‘men like us’? What are you trying to say? That you got…?” Stanley motioned towards his chest then Rick’s, and made curves in the air.

 

“Tits and more,” Rick confirmed. “But we’re all men.”

 

“Prove it.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me—prove it.”

 

Rick readily started undoing his clothes.

 

“You’ll undress with any excuse won’t you?” Fiddleford commented.

 

“So will you after a bottle of moonshine.”

 

Fiddleford’s mouth snapped shut and he turned red. Looking away form the others he unbuttoned his shirt enough to show the same cloth he’d had around his chest last night. This time they noticed it didn’t quite flatten him out fully, a hint of curve present. It was almost like a shirt cut too small to cover more than his chest, though it hugged him close.

 

Rick snickered at his modesty, not hesitating to pull down his own wrapping and showing that he did, in fact, have two round breasts.

 

For a moment they were speechless, staring in shock at Rick. Then grins spread across the twins’ faces.

 

“You really are like us!” Stanley exclaimed.

 

“I thought we were the only ones.”

 

“Ye-up,” Rick confirmed as both he and Fiddleford rebutted their clothes. “Told you they were like us, Fidds.”

 

“You have a sixth sense for this sort of thing. Which is fer the best or I reckon I wouldn’t be here,” Fiddleford mused. “Actually that might not be such a blessing.”

 

Rick ignored the jab.

 

“So, did we earn your names yet?”

 

As Stanley said “Stanford”, Stanford said “Stanley”, pointing at each other.

 

Rick managed to look both impressed and annoyed.

 

“Y-you really chose th-the same name?”

 

“Similar, not same,” Stanford corrected indignantly. He huffed when Rick snorted.

 

“Now, Rick, don’t tease these boys. It’s rude. Also they still have the motor.”

 

“Yeah, pal. You guys still need to tell us what you’re making. I hope it’s interesting.”

 

Rick’s eyes lit up. “Oh it’s interesting, alright. That motor i-is part of ah-ah-a portal device.”

 

“Portal device?” Stanley repeated. He glanced over to Stanford whose eyes were twinkling, and braced himself for the onslaught.

 

“Now when you say portal do you mean to other worlds? As in space? Uranus, Neptune, our own moon?”

 

“Farther than that,” Rick confirmed, grinning at his enthusiasm. “W-whole other planets brimming with nonhuman life.”

 

“Of course we’re still in the developmental stages,” Fiddleford added. “While it’s all theoretically feasible, I reckon, actually getting it ta work’s been a bit tricky.”

 

Eagerly Stanford insisted, “We can help!”

 

“ _He_ can help. I’m mostly just here for muscles and looks,” Stanley interjected.

 

“Are you kidding me? You stole from us while we were looking right at you. We can always use that kind of talent.”

 

“You should see what else I can do with these fingers,” Stanley leered, wiggling his digits suggestively.

 

“Flirt later, Stanley—this is important science.” 

 

Stanley rolled his eyes but let the conversation get back on track.

 

“Rick and I wouldn’t mind a bit of help from you boys, especially since you seem to be scientifically inclined yourself, Stanford.”

 

With a mixture of pride and shyness he admitted, “It’s a passion of mine.”

 

“What type of sciences in particular?”

 

“Well astronomy, of course, then there’s mathematics, electrochemistry, engineering, certain parts of botany—“

 

Fiddleford held up his hands with a chuckle. “My, you sure have a lot of interests there.”

 

“Yet none in anatomy,” Stanley snickered.

 

“I have nothing against that field,” Stanford replied, the jest going right over his head.

 

“Never mind, Sixer.”

 

Fiddleford showed them some blueprints for what Rick called a portal gun. There were a few different designs for this handheld device, notes scribbled in the margins. While it made little sense to Stanley he liked the thought of seeing the stars up close; now that sounded like the adventure he craved.

 

Stanford eagerly poured over the paper, asking dozens of questions and making little comments on the mathematics. They discussed particulars and equations until the stars started to fade, reluctantly parting ways when they realized how late it was.

 

“Can you come back here tonight?” Stanford hoped. “You can bring the rest of your notes and we an discuss things more in depth.”

 

“Do you fellas ever sleep?” Fiddleford wondered.

 

“Sleep is for lesser men,” Stanley said, suppressing a yawn.

 

“Alright, same time tonight it is. If you can sneak ah-away again this afternoon, feel free to find me, Lee.”

 

“We’ll see if I can make time. I am a busy guy, after all.”

 

Stanford and Fiddleford both rolled their eyes.

 

“And we’ll take that motor back,” Rick added, holding out his hand expectantly.

 

Grinning Stanley leaned against his brother who was already tucking the motor back into his jacket. “Nope. Think of it as insurance so you don’t try and skip town on us.”

 

Once again Rick managed to look both impressed and peeved. Stanley took immense satisfaction at that.

 

“You boys sure are something else,” Fiddleford said good-naturedly.

 

Stanley winked then they started off into the forest.

 

“Wait, aren’t we goin’ the same way?”

 

“No,” Stanford replied, glancing back. “Have a good day.”

 

The twins made sure they weren’t being followed as they hurried to another part of the forest where they kept an emergency cache of clothes. There was an old tree with a hole at its base. Inside they kept a box sealed with a lock Stanford had built himself which he opened now. They took probably more time than they should have getting dressed, minds racing with the new possibilities laid out in front of them.

 

“Just think, Stanley—other worlds!”

 

“I wonder if there are aliens that drink blood? Or’ll suck our brains out! Or are really good lookin’.”

 

“I don’t know, but this is exactly what we wanted. Adventure.”

 

“Adventure—and a way out of Gravity Falls.”

 

The brothers shared a grin and raced each other out of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If binders seem like an anachronism, stay tuned.


	5. Throw Me In An Old Pine Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins never catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize it was Saturday until now, whoops. 
> 
> This chapter has some mild sexual content, but nothing graphic. Also fear of implied child abuse.

Chapter 5— Throw Me In An Old Pine Box

 

Stanley let out a breathy laugh as Rick pressed his mouth on the space between his breasts. He ran a hand through Rick’s already messy hair, reflexively gripping it hard when Rick bit down. Not hard enough to bruise, just sting.

 

For several nights now the four had met up to tinker with the portal gun. Some progress had been made in theories and possible design changes, but they had come to a standstill, both stumped by equations Stanley couldn’t understand and their lack of parts. 

 

Rick had declared it break time. Then he had promptly led Stanley a little ways into the forest, leaving the other two to entertain themselves. The first thing Stanley had done was kiss him right on the open mouth. It hadn’t taken long after that for them to start losing their clothes.

 

To his surprise Rick was relatively gentle. More teasing than anything else. Stanley felt like he was purposely going slow, as though Rick was afraid of scaring him off.

 

Stanley pulled him back up for another deep kiss. Without breaking away he flipped them over so he was straddling Rick’s hips.

 

“You don’t have to treat me like a blushing bride, you know. I’m not exactly a virgin.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

He ran his hands up Stanley’s thighs and let him take the lead.

 

——

 

Stanford had never really been alone with a stranger before; Stanley and he were nearly always together and he had been fiercely protective since they were kids. Though, he supposed, they’d known Rick and Fiddleford for a few days now so they weren’t complete strangers, and Stanley was a much better judge of character than him. If he felt fine leaving Stanford alone with Fiddleford he had nothing to worry about.

 

Besides, Fiddleford was a friendly fellow. He obviously had noticed Stanford’s extra fingers but had never commented on them, for which Stanford was grateful. Instead Fiddleford seemed more interested in getting to know him.

 

“So is it just you and Stanley or do you have more siblings?”

 

“A little brother. Shermie’s nearly two now, and already a handful. Stanley’s much better at taking care of him, thankfully. I couldn’t handle a child on my own.”

 

“I always wanted a little bundle of joy. I grew up the third born out of nearly a dozen, and was the best at gettin’ the little ones settled down.” There was a wistful look on Fiddleford’s face.

 

“Do you miss them?” Stanford asked, unable to imagine leaving Stanley behind.

 

Fiddleford sighed. “Of course, but I’ll just have to keep on missin’ them.” In a flash Fiddleford was smiling again. “So, Stanford, I’m curious why you an’ your brother come out here so close to a forest full of spooks. I have to admit it’s a bit nerve wracking. I know those gnomes have watched us occasionally.”

 

“They do that, no worries. They’re rather harmless, not very competent.”

 

“I’ll remind you that they bit me. I’m still bruised.”

 

“Right, sorry. But really once you know about them they’re easy to avoid. Stanley and I have explored this forest since we were children with no problems.” Stanford paused for a moment before adding, “Well, there was the time they tried to make me their new queen. Anyway, we can handle them now.”

 

“The more I find out about you two, the more I am shocked you both haven’t gotten yourselves killed.”

 

“Pines are very resilient.”

 

“And apparently fearless.”

 

Stanford smiled wide and proud.

 

There was a rustle behind them and Fiddleford nearly jumped out of his skin. Thankfully it was just Stanley and Rick, clothes out of place and hair mused. Stanford noticed that his brother’s vest hung loosely off Rick’s shoulders.

 

“Welcome back.”

 

“Thanks,” Rick replied as the pair came over, dusting himself off.

 

“Well, it’s late now so you boys’ll be having to head back soon.”

 

“That late already?” Stanley asked, peering up at the sky. As he did his half buttoned shirt fell open a bit, revealing a sliver of marred skin.

 

“Stanley!” Stanford exclaimed.

 

“Sixer,” Stanley returned. He looked down where his brother was pointing and noticed the mark. “Rick!”

 

“Hey, don’t blame me—y-you, you’re the one who kept telling me not to be so gentle.”

 

Fiddleford sighed, exasperation plain on his face. “You’re going to be the death of me, Rick. At least it’s easily covered up.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. Carla’s got stuff if we need to disguise it,” Stanley said, urging them to gather up their things.

 

“I’ll check you over later to make sure there aren’t any other surprises,” Stanford promised, giving Rick an unimpressed look. Rick winked at him, and Stanford rolled his eyes.

 

——

 

Stanford turned at the sound of his birth name. He saw Susan just across the way, waving jubilantly. He gave her a small, more reserved wave in return, and waited for her.

 

“Good morning!” she greeted, her usual chipper self. “Where’s your twin?”

 

“Feeding the horses. What are you doing here?”

 

“Well my ma’s got errands to run in town so I really do need your help with the babies today. Isn’t that funny?” She half giggled, half snorted.

 

“Oh! Of course, it is the least we could do.” He glanced over and noticed Stanley coming out of the stables. “Lee!”

 

He came over, and a hello was barely out of his mouth before Susan enveloped him in a bear hug.

 

“Yeesh, you’re getting strong, kid. What’re you doing here?” She explained and Stanley nodded. “No problem. Let’s go tell ma.”

 

They went in through the back door. Ma was there in the kitchen, baby in one hand while she cooked.

 

“Morning, Mrs. Pines!”

 

“Susan! Haven’t seen you for a while. How’s your ma doing?”

 

“Much better. Horse kicked her in the head, but she’s back on her feet.”

 

The other three stared at her in shock, taken aback by the casual admission.

 

“You Wentworths can really take a beating.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Susan agreed, all smiles.

 

“Hey, ma, Susan needs our help with her siblings again. That alright?”

 

“Well sure, but take your brother so I can get things done around here,” ma said, handing Shermie off to Stanford who held him awkwardly.

 

“Hold on,” Pa’s voice cut through, making everyone turn to the doorway where he stood, face as stern as always. “Someone needs to help at the shop.”

 

Stanley quickly offered, “I will, pa.”

 

Filbrick nodded once and left after the gruff order of, “Hurry and get ready.”

 

Stanford smiled gratefully at his twin. Stanley returned it and told him, “I’ll be over whenever pa can’t stand havin’ me around no more. Bye, little guy.”

 

He ruffled Shermie’s hair and kissed ma goodbye before following Filbrick out.

 

“You girls better get going, too. Have fun.”

 

Ma pressed a kiss first to Shermie’s forehead then to Stanford’s temple. Then she waved them off.

 

As they walked Susan, taking the baby, rambled on about something that Stanford couldn’t follow. Thankfully they’d known each other for years; he knew she just liked talking just as she knew he wasn’t very good at responding.

 

Then out of nowhere Susan asked, “Hey, do you think it’s better to apologize in advance?”

 

“For what?”

 

His answer came in the form of someone tackling him as soon as he walked through her door. While his glasses were knocked askew, there was no mistaking who it was. Stanford gulped.

 

“H-hello, Carla.”

 

Carla slapped his arm and exclaimed, “You and that no good twin of yours have been avoiding me!”

 

Stanford tossed Susan a betrayed glance. She shrugged almost apologetically, though the smile didn’t leave her face.

 

“This was a trap,” he accused.

 

“I had no choice, Carla’s older.”

 

Stanford was positive Susan hadn’t needed her arm twisted to set him up, but he couldn’t dwell on the dirty trick. He focused back on Carla who was watching him impatiently.

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Don’t you lie to me, Stanford Pines.” The indignant way she put her hands on her hips and the tone she spoke in reminded Stanford eerily of ma, albeit with a different sternly spoken name.

 

He held his hands up defensively and assured, “Carla, I swear we haven’t been avoiding you. We’ve just been busy recently.”

 

Carla eyed him like she was trying to reach into his mind and figure out if he was lying or not. She seemed to believe him, though, suddenly brightening.

 

“Well, now you’ve got all afternoon to tell us about these mysterious strangers you’ve been rendezvousing with.”

 

Working with pa was seeming like the better choice minute by minute.

 

Carla led him by the shoulders; Stanford couldn’t break out of her grip and had no choice but to accept his fate. They went to Susan’s shared room. Some of her younger siblings were there, and she convinced them to leave with promises of sweets later.

 

Stanford was pushed playful onto one of the beds, the girls hopping up beside him. They crowded in uncomfortably close.

 

“Tell us everything,” Carla insisted.

 

“Are they as cute as Carla said they are? Is one of ‘em trying to woo you? What are they doing in town?”

 

Stanford groaned, wondering if his twin was having as rough a time as him.

 

——

 

Pa was in the back room when the front door opened. Stanley set the heavy feed bag down and turned to see who it was.

 

“Howdy, Lee—”

 

“Howdy, _stranger_ ,” Stanley quickly interjected, motioning with his eyes towards the back room. “What can I do you for?”

 

“Just here for some chewing tobacco, _ma’am_.”

 

Stanley smiled through gritted teeth, giving Rick a look that warned he’d remember this later.

 

“We’ve got plenty of that, cowboy.” He went behind the counter and brought out a tin of tobacco. “This your habit, stranger?”

 

“Nah, I’ve got plenty of other vices,” Rick replied, leaning across the counter so their faces were only inches apart. He dropped a few coins on the counter and brushed his fingers against Stanley’s that were still around the chew.

 

“You’re really pushing it, Rick,” Stanley warned, voice low.

 

“Y-you should know by now I love pushing it.”

 

Stanley tried to look stern but his smile, and pinking cheeks, betrayed him. He knew he should back up a respectable distance before pa caught them. Rick was tantalizingly near, though, and his musk was driving him wild. He couldn’t name the scent, just knew that it had an affect on him.

 

Well, he reasoned, one quick kiss wouldn’t hurt.

 

Stanley leaned up and pressed his lips to Rick’s for just a moment.

 

“Try and tide yourself over with that,” Stanley teased.

 

“I can’t wait for the main course.”

 

Someone cleared their throat and Stanley instantly went rigid.

 

“Is that everything, sir?”

 

Rick glanced over to the back room where Stanley knew pa was standing. He gave an easy grin, taking the tin.

 

“That’s all. Thank you, little lady,” Rick replied with a tip of his hat. He nodded at Filbrick.

 

“Come back whenever you need more, _viejo_ ,” Stanley returned.

 

Rick narrowed his eyes and Stanley knew he didn’t rise to the bait solely due to their sudden audience. Stanley cheerfully waved goodbye as he left.

 

Pa came up beside him and Stanley turned. Filbrick fixed him with an unreadable expression. Stanley swallowed.

 

“I finished all the chores you gave me, pa. Is there anything else ya need, or can I head over to Susan’s now?”

 

For a tense minute Filbrick just eyed him; Stanley wanted to squirm under his gaze, but through great will managed to stay still. Finally pa released him with a single word.

 

“Go.”

 

Stanley visibly relaxed. “Thanks, pa.”

 

Stanley started for the door but before he had taken a single step Filbrick grabbed his upper arm roughly. Tensing up Stanley looked back at him.

 

“Um, pa? That kinda hurts.”

 

“Go straight to Susan’s, you hear me, Leah? I better not hear you were out gallivanting around with some vagabond trash,” Filbrick spat.

 

“Geez, pa, he was just some customer.”

 

Filbrick looked like he didn’t believe Stanley, but let go of him regardless. Stanley hurried out the door before pa decided to stop him altogether.

 

His arm stung and Stanley hoped he didn’t bruise. Stanford had enough to worry about with the portal gun. No use upsetting him over nothing.

 

Stanley stepped down from the shop porch, sure that pa was watching. It wouldn’t do any good to dawdle, and it wasn’t like he particularly wanted to hang around here.

 

He turned to the right, the quickest way to get to Susan’s. He paused mid step, however; Fiddleford and Rick were not too far off, leaning against a pole. 

 

“Damn it,” Stanley cursed to himself.

 

Well, couldn’t go that way. Pa seeing him interacting with—or just going near—Rick again might set him off. He’d just have to go left instead.

 

Except that his two least favorite jerks were there and heading his way.

 

Today was just not his day.

 

They had spotted him, and Bud called out, “Leah!”

 

If trouble lay both ways, might as well go with the one he could have fun with.

 

“Will ya look at that?” Stanley said, stopping in front of the pair. “Two fine young gentlemen who’ll escort a lady.”

 

“A few minutes ago I was an old man,” Rick pointed out, raising his eyebrow.

 

“And tonight you can either be a dry man or a happy one, so what’ll it be?”

 

Rick quickly straightened up. “L-looks like we’re escorting this _gal_ wherever she needs to go.”

 

Fiddleford smiled and asked, “Where to, darlin’?”

 

Stanley took them both by the arm and said, “Just follow me. And maybe speed it up.”

 

Once again Stanley heard his birth name being called, only a few feet down the street. He barely cast a glance back hollering out, “Sorry, boys, I’m busy!”

 

He didn’t miss the way Preston bristled, not used to being brushed off like this. Stanley couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.

 

“Friends of yours?” Rick wondered.

 

“Ugh, don’t make me sick.”

 

The walk to Susan’s was pleasant, he and Rick flirting the majority of the way. It was definitely worth it, even if in the back of his mind was a spark of fear that he had ignited his father’s wrath.

 

“This your place?” Rick asked as they approached the little ranch.

 

Stanley laughed. “Pretty bold, buddy, if you think I’d bring you to my house.”

 

Rick grinned and guessed, “Something else I gotta earn?”

 

“Hey, you’re finally catching on.”

 

They went up to the front door and Stanley let go of the other men. Fiddleford tipped his hat in goodbye. Rick stood there like he expected something.

 

“What are you waiting for, a kiss on the cheek? We’ll see you tonight.”

 

Rick rolled his eyes. “What, whatever, Lee. Have fun with that saloon girl.”

 

Stanley’s face scrunched in confusion. “Carla? What—ah!”

 

Carla had sprung out from behind the door and tackled Stanley, wrapping her arms around him so he couldn’t get away.

 

“Gallivanting around with your cowboy in the middle of broad daylight? You’re so bold, Lee. You’re going to tell me everything.”

 

Stanley sent the other two a pleading look. “Hey, why don’t you guys stay a bit?”

 

Rick flashed him a smirk before turning around and starting back down the trail, dragging Fiddleford along. “S-see you tonight, Lee.”

 

“Come on, Rick!”

 

He had the gall to crane his head back and _wink_. Stanley was left to the wolves.

 

Carla pulled him inside and into Susan’s bedroom. The girl waved excitedly at him, then held a silencing finger to her lips. She motioned behind her on the bed where Stanford was dozing with Shermie.

 

“This was a setup,” Stanley whispered accusingly. Susan shrugged.

 

Carla sat him down next to his brothers. Begrudgingly accepting his predicament, he didn’t resist, though he did stubbornly cross his arms to make sure the girls knew he wasn’t a willing participant.

 

“Stanford was a hard one to crack,” Carla told him, reaching out to shake his foot.

 

“We bribed him with jelly beans,” Susan added.

 

Stanley looked at his twin in disbelief as Stanford woke up. He leisurely stretched and yawned, then appeared to realize Shermie was still on his chest. He gently adjusted the baby.

 

“Geez, Sixer, ya coulda just gotten some jelly beans from the store.”

 

Stanford jumped. He glanced at his twin, cheeks reddening.

 

“I couldn’t resist.”

 

“And you get on me for my sweet tooth.”

 

“It’s not like I was going to win against these two,” Stanford pointed out, jabbing a thumb at the smiling girls. “Might as well get something out of the interrogation.” Stanford suddenly brightening as he reached into his dress. “Besides, look. It’s deformed.”

 

He proudly showed off the twisted candy. Stanley tried to give him an unimpressed look, but Stanford was so excited all he could do was sigh fondly.

 

“What did ya tell ‘em?”

 

“Not enough,” Carla quickly responded.

 

She draped herself over Stanley, looking imploringly at him. Susan nestled up to his other side like a kid eager for a story.

 

“I already explained the gist of it to them,” Stanford explained. “I don’t know what else they could possibly want.”

 

“All you said was they’re scientists working on some boring project and Stanley’s sweet on the taller one.”

 

“Hold on!” Stanley exclaimed indignantly. “I ain’t sweet on no one! Can’t a guy flirt with a handsome stranger in peace?”

 

“I didn’t say you were sweet on him, and I certainly didn’t use the word boring.”

 

“Creative interpretation.” Carla stuck her tongue out playfully at Stanford. Then she poked Stanley in the chest. “And as for you, just flirt, or are you fooling around with him?”

 

“Yeesh, Carla, do we have to do this around Susan?”

 

“I’m not a kid anymore,” she protested. “I just turned sixteen.”

 

“Susie can handle all the sordid details. Now tell us.”

 

The girls started chanting, “Tell us! Tell us!”

 

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, Rick an’ me have fooled around, an’ last night we slept together.”

 

Carla squealed. The sound startled Shermie awake and he gurgled curiously. Stanford shushed him down.

 

“He’s so cute,” Susan gushed. “He looks like he’s got a real good mouth for _kissing_.” She elbowed him in the side.

 

“Yeesh, you really are growing up,” Stanley commented, mildly unnerved.

 

Carla grabbed his upper arm and shook him. “You’re not done yet, mister.”

 

“What do you want from me, Carla? Taste and texture?”

 

Stanford quickly pressed his palms against Shermie’s ears. “I remind you there’s a baby in here.”

 

“Ah, he can’t understand nothing, Sixer.”

 

“I’m not asking about his charger, anyway.”

 

Susan looked at her quizzically. “Charger?”

 

“You know, his cucumber. His roly-poley.”

 

“Oh! You mean his plowshare.” 

 

“Love stick,” Carla confirmed.

 

“Spouter,” Susan returned. 

 

“Those are all awful,” Stanley interjected. “Try tosser, or stick with a classic like trouser serpent.”

 

Stanford groaned as they devolved into giggles.

 

“Just say penis.”

 

“P’nis!” Shermie happily repeated.

 

Stanford’s mouth fell open. The others just laughed louder.

 

——

 

Carla and Susan had finally released them, solely due to the late hour. They had begged and cajoled for every little detail on the outsiders. In the end the only other thing they divulged was that Rick and Fiddleford knew they were really men. They didn’t say how the pair were just like them.

 

“Do you think pa will be mad?” Stanford asked as they walked back home.

 

“Ah, he was in the shop, he wasn’t watching. Besides, even if he did see me with Rick and Fidds, it’s still better than dealing with those clowns.”

 

Stanford frowned.

 

Truthfully Stanley was still worried; it was never a good idea to try their father’s temper. If pa did see him go off with the pair then it wouldn’t be the first time his impulsiveness got him in deep. But again, no reason to work Stanford up about it.

 

“Dealing with pa is rough, but having to talk to Preston and Bud is actual torture, isn’t that right, Shermie?” Stanley pressed his lips to the baby’s cheek and blew, making Shermie squeal in delight.

 

Stanford’s face was still wrinkled with worry. Stanley took Shermie’s tiny hand and guided it over to playfully smack Stanford. He narrowed his eyes unimpressed so Stanley did it again until the giggling Shermie was hitting Stanford with no prompting.

 

“Why do you insist on teaching him these things?”

 

“Hey, it’s my job as a big brother to teach him the important things.”

 

“I don’t recall teaching you that,” Stanford teased, corner of his mouth twitching upwards. Stanley scowled and, when Shermie grabbed onto his glasses, didn’t help Stanford wrestle it out of his strong grip.

 

Finally reaching home, they hesitated outside the kitchen door. Stanley peeked in the window. No one was in there so they crept inside. They could hear their parents talking in the other room and, shushing Shermie, inched closer to listen in.

 

“Filbrick, I know my girls, and I know what you’re talking about is a bad idea.”

 

The twins shared a perplexed glance.

 

“ _Your girls_ ,” and pa’s tone made them cringe, “are no longer children.”

 

They heard ma sigh.

 

“Darling, you’re going about this in the wrong way. Give me time ta work my motherly magic. This is a delicate time in a young woman’s life, you know.”

 

Pa replied too low for them to decipher his words.

 

The twins snuck back to the door and Stanford opened it, then let it shout audibly.

 

“Ma, pa! We’re home!”

 

“In here, girls.”

 

They entered the front room. Pa was in his chair, face stoney and unreadable.

 

“There’s my little guy,” ma cooed, coming over and scooping Shermie up. “Did you miss your ma?”

 

“Ma!” Shermie exclaimed, reaching up to wrap his arms around her. “P-peh—“

 

“What are you trying to say, baby?”

 

The twins’ eyes widened.

 

“Pa! He’s trying to say pa, ain’tcha, kid?”

 

“Aww, do you want to play with pa while we finish dinner?”

 

Ma took the baby over to pa and set him on Filbrick’s lap. Her back turned, Stanford took the opportunity to shoot Stanley a mollifying look. Stanley shrugged.

 

“He’s really starting to talk, huh?” he commented innocently.

 

“We’ll have to start teaching him the right words,” Stanford agreed pointedly.

 

Stanley grinned and raised an eyebrow, silently reminding Stanford which one Shermie had picked that word up from.

 

——

 

“‘The bandit paused. A twig snapped somewhere behind him. The forest was too thick to see through, and he wondered—was it his beau, having accepted his plea to run away together? Or was it her furious father, gun in hand ready to shoot him dead?’”

 

Stanford paused. Stanley waited with baited breath, fingers deftly twisting his brother’s hair together. When nothing else came, however, he stopped and prodded, “Well?”

 

“Well what?”

 

“Is it the lover or the father? I’m dying here, Sixer!”

 

“Sorry, Lee,” he replied, snapping the penny dreadful shut, “that’s the end. We have to wait for the next issue to see.”

 

Stanley groaned and flopped back on the bed.

 

“It better not be her pa. That man’s crooked.”

 

“Indeed. And Helen deserves a happy ending.” Stanford craned his head back. “Are you almost done?”

 

Stanley shot back up and pushed his head back into place. “Don’t move, you’ll ruin it. And I ain’t gonna do it again.”

 

“Well, hurry and finish, then.”

 

As Stanley completed the braid there was a knock at the door and ma came in. She brought a chair over to the bed and sat.

 

“Hello, girls.”

 

“Hello, ma,” the twins chimed.

 

“Do you need something?” Stanford wondered.

 

“Your palms,” Martha replied, holding out her own hands. “Leanne you first.”

 

Knowing there was no weaseling out of this, Stanford gave her his palm. Ma was obsessed with the occult and spirit world, something she had passed onto the twins. Yet rather than going out into the forest hunting creatures she read palms. It was something she did with the other women in secret, away from the eyes of disbelieving or disapproving husbands.

 

Stanford himself didn’t put much credence in this vocation, but he had to admit ma gave people eerily good advice for situations no one saw coming. Either she was tapping into an amazing power—or she had an uncanny ability to read people.

 

“Hm,” ma murmured, tracing lines on his palm. “Hm.”

 

Despite himself Stanford leaned forward. Stanley did, as well, practically crawling into Stanford’s lap so he could peer closely at the lines.

 

“Could I have some personal space?”

 

“No way, Sixer, I have to learn the trade.”

 

Ma shushed them. “I need to concentrate, girls. Your lines have changed so much, Leanne. See here? Something big is going to happen in your life soon. It may already be happening.”

 

The twins glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes, trying to be subtle.

 

Ma brought his palm closer to her face, nose scrunching in deep thought. She hummed again. The twins were dying of anticipation.

 

“Right here,” she finally spoke, tracing a long line with her fingernail. It went from the top of his wrist three fourths up his palm, where it branched out in two different directions. “You’ll have a very important decision to make soon.”

 

“Important decision?” the twins repeated.

 

“That’s what the lines say. Leah, give me yours.”

 

Stanley turned his hand over and ma peered deep into his lines. There was more humming, then she nodded, pleased like she was seeing the exact thing she expected.

 

“Yours is the same way, Leah. Both of you are gonna have to make a very important choice sometime soon, and I think it’ll be a matter of the heart.”

 

“Uh, are you sure, ma?”

 

“The lines don’t lie, girls.” She placed their hands in their laps and stood. After pressing a kiss on their foreheads she said, “Goodnight, sweeties. Sleep tight.”

 

They wished her the same. As soon as the door was closed they spun to each other, eyes wide.

 

“Ma knows something,” Stanford whispered urgently.

 

“Nah, Sixer, don’t—”

 

“Don’t you dare tell me not to worry.”

 

“Listen, it’s _fine_. Ma is just trying to see if we’ve got our eyes on anyone. You know how she is.”

 

Stanford didn’t quite buy into that theory, and he doubted Stanley did, either. All they could do was wait and make sure they didn’t slip up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun looking up old period accurate slang for genitals.


	6. The Sea’s Always Deeper Where It’s Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally get to test a rough prototype, which unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a month late, ahahaha whoops. But I needed to do some rewriting, since I tweaked what happens later. There are a lot of things I like in this chapter, so maybe you will, too, and it’ll be worth the wait.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Nothing, really. I mean, mild sexual innuendo and gnomes propositioning the twins, but that’s it.

“Come on, doesn’t being queens sound like a great deal?” Jeff asked, nudging Stanley’s hip. “I swear we’ll treat you both better than that pair you keep bringing here.”

 

Stanley rolled his eyes; Stanford frowned.

 

When they had come to wait for Rick and Fiddleford, a few gnomes had popped out from behind the trees. Instantly Jeff had gotten down on one knee and proposed. After a single look at the pinecone rings being offered Stanley had pushed the gnome over. Undeterred, Jeff simply climbed up on one of his companion’s head and for the past ten minutes had been propositioning them to be the new gnome queens.

 

“I already told ya, bark breath, we ain’t women and we ain’t gonna be your queens.”

 

“That’s a little detail,” Jeff waved off. “As long as you can carry babies that’s what matters.”

 

Face scrunching up Stanford wondered, “How would a human and a gnome even conceive a child?”

 

Stanley shivered. “Don’t make me imagine it, Sixer.”

 

“Just say yes and you can find out,” Jeff replied with a wink.

 

“Alright, we’re done here.”

 

Stanley picked him up by the scruff of his neck and prepared to fling the gnome right back into the woods. He flailed wildly, begging for one last chance more piteously than Stanley could stand. With a sigh he related and lowered Jeff.

 

“You got two minutes. Don’t make me regret this.”

 

“ _Thank you_. Now, picture this—the sun is lowering, you’re both naked in a field of wild flowers, just resting as your loyal subjects hand feed you berries. Suddenly a handsome figure, me, approaches, equally naked.”

 

“Alright that’s it,” Stanley interjected.

 

“But that wasn’t two minutes!”

 

“Felt like an eternity to me.”

 

With that Stanley threw Jeff as far into the woods as he could, the little gnome’s protests echoing after him. Then Stanley leveled the other gnomes with a warning look; they quickly scampered after their leader. As the last one tried to pass Stanley, however, he whistled at him, making the gnome pause and look up curiously.

 

“Shmebulock, next time he gets the idea to try and get us to be your queens, do us a favor and toss him into the lake or something.”

 

“Shmebulock,” the gnome promised before disappearing into the trees.

 

Stanley turned to his twin who was still frowning. He went over and threw an arm around Stanford’s shoulders, grinning wide.

 

“We’re getting too popular for our own good.”

 

“You’re the popular one, Stanley. I’m just the tagalong.”

 

“Come on, Sixer, give yourself more credit than that. Fiddlesticks seems pretty friendly towards ya,” he teased, ruffling Stanford’s hair.

 

Stanford opened his mouth to retort but a rustling caught their attention. The brothers snapped their heads to the side just as Rick and Fiddleford entered the clearing looking a bit worse for wear.

 

“Yeesh, what bull charged you two down?”

 

“Ah-ah-a bunch of gnomes,” Rick spat.

 

He took out his flask while Fiddleford explained, “That’s why we’re so late, fellas. When we took a single step into the forest we were ambushed by a gang of those critters. It was awful!”

 

The twins turned to each other, promptly bursting into laughter. They tried to stifle it, but one look at the disbelief on their disheveled companions’ faces sent them roaring anew. Stanley even bent over and slapped his knee.

 

“Are you two idiots ready to work on the motor or what?” Rick groused.

 

They wiped tears fro their eyes, both nodding as Stanford replied, “Yes, yes. Let’s begin. I am very excited to implement those design changes to the motor.”

 

The fours settled down and started tinkering with the motor. Well, Stanley mostly watched, occasionally tossing out a wisecrack or flirting with Rick. And, of course, attempting to keep Rick and Stanford from killing each other.

 

“Do you even know how to use a screwdriver, Stanford?”

 

“I refuse to be lectured by a man who’s working with delicate machinery while drunk.”

 

“Please, I-I’m nowhere near drunk, _Stanford_.”

 

“Ha! You reek of alcohol as though you used it to shower instead of water, _Rick_. Not to say when you’re sober—if you ever are—that you’re in any position to instruct me on how to use basic tools.”

 

Sitting between the two, Stanley quickly put his hands up as Rick appeared ready to lunge at Stanford. His brother wasn’t any more composed, teeth grit even as he smirked smugly at the other man.

 

“Whoa, there. Maybe not attack someone trying to help you?” Stanley suggested.

 

“We would be better off allowing Shmebulock to assist us,” Stanford replied. “At least the gnomes have more sense than liquor in them—unlike some.”

 

“Oh, th-that, that’s rich, _Stanford_. In the short time I’ve known you—which has been far too long—all you’ve proven is that you’re an insufferable kid.”

 

Now Stanford was ready to lunge. They leaned forward dangerously, fire in their eyes. Stanley pressed his hands against both their chests in an attempt to push them back.

 

“Children, please behave,” Fiddleford spoke up calmly.

 

Instead of listening the pair start to insult each other again. Fiddleford sighed and pinched either’s ear, twisting. Rick and Stanford let out twin yelps.

 

“Now, are you fellas going to behave or do I need to separate you?”

 

Stanley admired his cool tone, and how Fiddleford didn’t raise his voice in the slightest. A long time riding with Rick seemed to have really honed his skills in keeping his partner in line.

 

“Ow, fuck!” Rick exclaimed.

 

“This is really quite painful,” Stanford agreed.

 

“Imagine that. Now, are you two gonna act civil so we can get back to work?”

 

When neither answered he squeezed a little harder. Instantly the pair relented, agreeing to stop their arguing. With a pleased smile Fiddleford released them.

 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it, boys?”

 

They rubbed their sore ears, wisely not replying.

 

“You’re pretty impressive for a timid lookin’ string-bean,” Stanley commented.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

Full focus was returned to the portal gun, this time with far less bickering. Soon the adjustments were finished.

 

The motor was the heart of the portal gun, an intricate machine inside a temporary metal casing vaguely in the shape of a pistol. The current energy resource was simply some natural minerals acting as a placeholder for testing purposes. Once they knew the motor was stable—and powerful enough—the search for a better energy source would begin. Something they were hopefully about to see.

 

“So who’s gonna test it?” Stanley wondered.

 

“Why don’t you, Stanford?” Rick offered, holding out the portal gun. “You actually managed to help some.”

 

“Ah, thank you, but I’ll decline. It was originally your project, after all.”

 

“Y-you just don’t want to be in the line of fire if something goes wrong.”

 

“I assumed that’s why you had asked me to test it.”

 

Rick smirked in a way that proved Stanford correct. Holding the gun in front of Stanley he asked, “Blow for good luck?”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick as he leaned forward and blew on the portal gun.

 

Rick aimed the gun where no one was standing and braced himself. With a deep breath he pull the trigger. 

 

Nothing happened.

 

Rick tried again with the same results. He quirked his eyebrow and looked it over curiously.

 

“Out of everything that could have happened, can’t say I was expecting that,” Stanley commented.

 

“It should have done _something_ ,” Fiddleford said, running a hand through his hair. “This doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

 

“Perhaps you’re doing something wrong. I should have it after all.”

 

As Stanford reached for the portal gun Rick snatched it out of his reach. Stanford tried to take it from him but Rick only slapped his hand away.

 

“Not a chance in hell. I shouldn’t have let you touch this in the first place.”

 

They began to argue again, both trying to wrestle for control of the portal gun. Stanley glanced over at Fiddleford who was too focused on his thoughts, most likely running through the changes they had made, and thus wasn’t settling them down. He rolled his eyes and went over to the squabbling pair.

 

“Alright, break it up.”

 

They ignored him. Rick was holding the portal gun as high as he could, well out of Stanford’s reach. When Stanford tried to jump for it Rick placed his other hand on Stanford’s face, pushing him back down and keeping him from jumping again.

 

No way they were going to listen, so Stanley elbowed his way between them. With a firm hand he forced the pair apart, curling his fingers in their shirtfronts.

 

“Yeesh, guys, we ain’t gonna accomplish anything if all ya do is fight.”

 

“W-we, we haven’t accomplished anything working together, obviously,” Rick countered, holding the portal gun out towards Stanford only to quickly whip it back when he made a grab for it.

 

“Well _obviously_ the problem lies with the operator,” Stanford snapped.

 

“It’s a damn button, _Stanford_! You think I-I-I can’t push a fucking button?” Rick brought the portal gun down and furiously pressed the trigger in rapid succession. “Here I am pushing the damn thing, but look! _Nothing’s fucking happening_.”

 

Suddenly, something started happening.

 

The gun began to whir loudly from the motor within, and soon it was vibrating in Rick’s grasp. Then the dangerous sound of metal getting tangled up and scraping against itself overpowered everything else as the portal gun began to glow a pale green.

 

“Oh boy,” Stanley said. “That doesn’t seem good.”

 

“Nope.”

 

The glowing intensified. Sparks shot out, and Rick tossed it away from the group. They barely had a chance to turn and cover their ears as the portal gun exploded.

 

Smoke filled the air, obscuring the clearing. It took a good minute for it to dissipate, giving the quartet time to recover. As visibility returned they stared at each other in shock.

 

“Well that certainly wasn’t supposed to happen,” Fiddleford commented dazedly, righting his eyeglasses.

 

Breathing a sigh of relief Stanley said, “I’m just glad none of us were—”

 

“See what your carelessness caused?” Stanford interjected. Rick scowled.

 

“Oh, so all the blame lands on me? Th-that’s pretty convenient, huh?”

 

Both jumped to their feet and once again began to shout at each other. It was hard to tell what they were saying, ones insults bleeding into the others accusations and vice-versa incomprehensibly.

 

Stanley ran a hand down his face in exasperation. He briefly considered separating them like before, but decided it was best to let them get all this out of their systems now. Let them scream themselves hoarse so they could finally cool down whenever they ran out of breath, so long as things didn’t turn physical.

 

Instead Stanley was drawn to Fiddleford who was likewise ignoring the pair. The other man stood bent over the portal gun and Stanley joined him. Together they stared down at all their smoldering hard work.

 

“How’s it look, Fiddlesticks?”

 

“That’s a mighty fine question, Stanley. Unfortunately I’m not too sure.”

 

Fiddleford squatted down and picked a stick off the ground, poking tentatively at their project. The casing had blown open, revealing the motor. It looked like it would need quite a lot of work.

 

“Well, we’ll just have to rethink a few things,” Fiddleford said optimistically. “Tonight we should brainstorm a bit, then sleep on whatever we come up with. I’m sure if’n we put our heads together—”

 

“You’re a kid who doesn’t know a damn thing!”

 

“You’re an irresponsible, reprehensible slob!”

 

In unison Stanley and Fiddleford sighed.

 

“Maybe we should just reconvene tomorrow night.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t think much else is gonna get accomplished.”

 

They straightened and turned back to the other pair. Stanford and Rick were mere inches apart, both looking ready to get their fists involved any second now.

 

“Nice how well they get along,” Stanley joked, eliciting a snort from his companion.

 

“I’m sure they’ll warm up to each other. Probably.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Maybe not.”

 

They shared a chuckle before going over and dragging either one back into town.

 


	7. The Mist of the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys attempt to figure out what to do about the motor, and Stanford has a brilliant idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Fiddleford can't have a Cubix's Cube in the old west, I gave him puzzle rings. Very good for fiddling. 
> 
> Also I took some liberties with the leprecorns. This is an alternate universe, so maybe they’re different here.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Some mild sexual content, but nothing graphic just a bit of implied-ness and nudity.

Carla had a way of smiling at the twins that made them feel laid bare, as though she shined a light on all their secrets. It didn’t help that she knew practically everything about them. They were just glad she was on their side.

 

“You know, for two men just passing through, that Rick and Fiddleford sure have stuck around for a while now,” Carla commented, pushing herself off the fence post.

 

“We haven’t noticed,” Stanley waved off.

 

“Wonder what’s keeping them here.”

 

“Maybe it’s the view,” Stanford suggested.

 

Carla gave Stanley a knowing look. “I bet.”

 

“Hey, like I said before—this is just a brush. Two ships passing each other in the night.”

 

“How poetic,” Carla sighed, and Stanley got the distance impression she didn’t believe him. Adding insult to injury, Stanford chortled.

 

“Whatever,” he huffed, crossing his arms and looking away from them both.

 

Carla draped herself over him, poking Stanley’s cheek. “That’s a very becoming shade of red, Lee.”

 

Stanley shot her a dark look. She bopped him playfully on the nose.

 

“You two are hiding something.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stanley denied. Stanford nodded profusely.

 

Carla straightened, hands flying to her hips. Right foot tapping in a way that reminded them of ma she told them, “Oh, I’ll find out eventually, you two. I always do.”

 

The twins gulped. Carla was a force to be reckoned with.

 

Suddenly new voices called out, in a tone of someone who expected to have the upmost attention paid to whatever asinine words were coming out of them.

 

“Ah, Leah! Leanne!”

 

“Just the strapping angelicas we were hoping to run into.”

 

Stanley pinched the bride of his nose. At least this ended Carla’s inquisition. For now.

 

“Do they really have nothing better to do?” Stanford wondered, not loud enough for the approaching men to hear.

 

“Move along, boys,” Carla called out, shooing them away, “you’re not gonna do any sparrow catching over here!”

 

“How rude,” Preston chided as they refused to heed her words.

 

“If you don’t mind we’re here to talk to these two.”

 

All at once the other three said, “I mind.”

 

Preston and Bud seemed undeterred.

 

“As I’m sure you’re both aware the annual town fair is coming up. You know, the celebration of how my family founded Gravity Falls.”

 

Stanley, Stanford, and Carla all rolled their eyes.

 

“Like you could ever let anyone forget,” Stanley griped.

 

He pressed on, ignoring the snide remark. “The fair will be upon us in no time, and I’m sure neither of you have a man to accompany you.”

 

Stanley bristled. “You tryin’ ta say something, Northwest?”

 

“Only that you girls are noticeably single,” Bud cut in. “And since we—”

 

“How dare you!” Carla exclaimed, threading a protective arm through the twins’. “Implying they can’t find men. Honestly you two are…are…”

 

“Really tryin’ my patience,” Stanley finished, and Carla nodded.

 

“Now girls, we didn’t mean—”

 

“Me an’ Sixer could get any man we wanted! Trust me, our only problem is the slim pickings.” Stanley gave them a pointed look.

 

“Ah, the fair,” Bud stammered, “we were—”

 

“What, you just assume we aren’t going with someone? Well the joke’s on you, pal.”

 

“They were already asked to the fair,” Carla said, “by two handsome strangers.”

 

“What!” Preston and Bud exclaimed, astounded.

 

“That’s right, they’ve got themselves gentlemen callers.” Carla started to lead the twins away. “Let’s go. This company isn’t settling well with me.”

 

They left the pair standing there slack-jawed.

 

“The nerve of those guys,” Stanley groused once they were out of the other men’s range. “Just as bad as pa. What I wouldn’t give for the chance to clock ‘em both.”

 

“You’ll get the chance to shove it in their faces,” Carla assured.

 

“What did you two just do?” Stanford hissed.

 

“Put the two in their place,” Carla answered, looking quite pleased.

 

“Maybe it’ll actually shut them up.”

 

Stanford sighed. “Until the fair when we don’t show up with anyone.”

 

“What’re you talking about? Rick and Fidds’ll take us.”

 

“I can give you several reasons off the top of my head why that’s an awful idea.”

 

“Don’t focus on the negative possibilities,” Carla told him. “Just imagine the look on their faces when you two are dancing with real men.”

 

“It’ll be fine, Sixer, don’t—”

 

“Don’t worry. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stanford sighed again. “You know we have to convince Rick and Fiddleford to accompany us, right?”

 

Carla smirked dangerously. “If they’re difficult you just let me get ahold of them.”

 

——

 

“Wait, so what exactly is a hide-behind?”

 

Stanley shrugged as best he could with one of Rick’s arms slung around his shoulders. “That’s the point—you can’t catch a glimpse ‘cause they hide as soon as you turn around.”

 

“Do they do anything?”

 

“Eh, not really. They’re a little annoying, but gnomes are worse. Or unicorns.”

 

Stanley felt Rick shift then his eyes gazing incredulously at him. 

 

“Unicorns?”

 

“They’re the worst. Never want to deal with one again.”

 

“What—”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

First there was a rumble that shook Stanley. Then Rick let out a laugh that echoed through the forest.

 

“Gee, thanks. Ass.”

 

Rick just laughed harder, clutching his side.

 

“I’m gonna check on Sixer and Fidds,” Stanley decided, sitting up. Hands snaked around his waist, keeping him from standing.

 

“H-hold on, hold—ha!—on.”

 

Stanley turned and shot him a glare. Rick was biting his bottom lip, but it wasn’t long before the laughter burst out of him.

 

“Prick.”

 

Rick pulled Stanley back down. “You love it,” he said, pressing their lips together.

 

The kiss lasted long enough to leave them both breathless when they finally did pull apart. Stanley briefly considered leaving the others to their own devices for the rest of the night so he could feel Rick’s mouth all over him again. Then he remembered earlier.

 

“Hey, remember those two guys from the other day? When you and Fidds walked me to Susan’s?”

 

“The prissy boy and rejected reverend’s son?”

 

“Yeah, them. Wanna help me rile ‘em up?”

 

Rick grinned, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

——

 

Stanford had been tinkering with the motor for nearly an hour now while Fiddleford quadruple checked their equations, then checked them again. Stanford admired the man’s careful eye. It was much different from Rick’s habit of slapping pieces together and seeing if it ran or blew up in their faces.

 

The latter was becoming unfortunately commonplace.

 

An owl hooted somewhere nearby, starling Fiddleford who jerked back, dropping the puzzle rings he had been mindlessly toying with. Stanford looked up from the motor. It was the first time he’d sat up for a while now, and he could feel every moment in the cramp shooting across his back.

 

“There’s nothing too dangerous in these woods, right?”

 

“Oh,” Stanford mused, stretching out, “I don’t suppose. There is the gremloblin, though.”

 

“Gremloblin?”

 

“Yes. Looking into its eyes causes you to see your worst fears. Very traumatic, and very fascinating.” Fiddleford stared at him, mouth agape. Stanford hurriedly assured, “No reason to worry, it’s a very rare creature and lives much further into the forest. We’ve avoided that area ever since the, ah, _incident_.”

 

Fiddleford gulped. “Incident?”

 

“We had to find out what the creature did somehow. How do the figures look?” Stanford asked, not wanting to dwell.

 

As if suddenly remembering they were working on something Fiddleford replied, “Oh! Well I’ve looked everything over.”

 

“And?”

 

With a weary sigh he admitted, “I’m stumped. There’s something important we’re missing, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what.”

 

Stanford thought for a moment, peering at the motor like he expected it to give up all the secrets of interplanetary travel. Then, quite shockingly, it did. Or at leas the next step they needed.

 

“Fiddleford!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet.

 

“Stanford?” Fiddleford returned unsurely, following suit.

 

“I have an idea.”

 

Stanford started for the edge of the clearing without further explanation, leaving Fiddleford to follow after him curiously.

 

“Wouldja mind fillin’ a fella in, Stanford?”

 

“We’ve been relying too much on science! What we need is magic.”

 

“Oh, dear.”

 

He could guess where Stanley had dragged Rick off to. His brother had several favorite spots, some reserved purely for his liaisons. Stanford knew him well enough to know he should start at a little area tucked away near the mountains. Sure enough they were there.

 

“I know what we need!” Stanford declared.

 

Stanley let out a yelp and rolled off Rick, trying to cover himself up. Rick made no move to do the same, instead shooting Stanford a glare.

 

“Come on, Sixer, a little warning would be nice.”

 

“Sorry. But there’s no time, Stanley. I might have figured out what we need.”

 

Propping himself up on his elbows Rick said, “I-I’m listening.”

 

“You’re also naked,” Fiddleford pointed out, covering both his eyes and Stanford’s.

 

“Yee-up.”

 

There was no rustling as though Rick was getting dressed so Stanford continued.

 

“Our main problem currently has been the motor. Specifically how it isn’t powerful enough and quickly breaks down—sometimes violently. It needs to be reinforced.”

 

“And what should we reinforce it with?”

 

Together Stanford and Fiddleford answered, happily and resigned respectively. “Magic.”

 

“You thinkin’ unicorn hair?” 

 

“Leprecorn should do, actually. I still have those spells we took from the witch last winter. Also I refuse to ever ask those creatures for another favor.”

 

Fiddleford lowered his hands and looked at Stanford, disbelief coating his face.

 

“Witch?”

 

“Yes, the one who lives in the caves. She’s not very pleasant.”

 

“She’s a bitch,” Stanley corrected.

 

Fiddleford shook his head slowly. “Gosh all hemlock, you boys are just one surprise after another.”

 

“More than you can imagine,” Stanley teased, winking. Even in the low light afforded by the moon and stars Fiddleford’s blush was apparent.

 

Rick hopped to his feet saying, “Well what are we waiting for? Let, let’s go perform some magic.”

 

“Please put pants on, at the very least.”

 

“I would greatly appreciate that,” Stanford agreed.

 

“Eh, I like him like this, personally.”

 

Rick glanced over at Stanley and made a suggestive motion with his tongue. Grinning, Stanley stood up and smacked Rick’s ass.

 

“No magic until you’re dressed,” Fiddleford told him firmly. Rick rolled his eyes but picked up his scattered clothes.

 

While he and Stanley fixed themselves up Stanford explained, “The spell calls for a few ingredients. Specifically leprecorn hair, the only thing we don’t have already.”

 

“What the hell is a leprecorn?”

 

“The child of a leprechaun and a unicorn.”

 

There was a moment of silence.

 

“You fucking with me, Stanford?”

 

“I assure you it’s real.”

 

“It’s pretty weird. I try not to think about it,” Stanley said.

 

Rick whistled. “Th-that’s pretty fucked up.”

 

He repeated the sentiment the second they tracked one down.

 

“Hey, no one ever said magical creatures were pretty.”

 

“Actually, myths either depict them as absolute beauty or absolute horror,” Stanford said.

 

“This is the latter,” Fiddleford decided, eyeing the strange creature before them.

 

Leprecorns inherited the small stature of their leprechaun parent, with the horn and quadrupedal nature of the unicorn. Their face was very much humanlike—if it was molded over a horse skull.

 

“Do they dress themselves?” Fiddleford wondered.

 

“How?” Rick asked.

 

The twins shrugged.

 

“We haven’t figured everything out about them,” Stanford admitted.

 

“Frankly I don’t want to. Can we just get the hair and go? These things make me uncomfortable.”

 

“Would you like to be the calmer?”

 

“Fine, but if it bites me I’m tossing you and it both into the lake.”

 

Stanley slowly approached the tiny creature like he would a normal horse, rounding on its front and hands clearly in front of him in a non-threatening manner. 

 

“Hey, little guy.” The leprecorn reared up with a high pitched snort. “Sh, sh. It’s alright. Here.” 

 

Stanley held out his hand for the leprecorn who sniffed it curiously. A little tongue darted out to give his fingers an experimental lick. Apparently liking what he tasted it nuzzled against his hand. Stanley stroked the leprecorn’s muzzle and glanced over at Stanford.

 

He had snuck up behind the creature. Stanley gave him the silent cue he needed, and Stanford reached for the leprecorn’s curly red mane. He plucked a few strands, and suddenly the creature went wild.

 

It started shrieking and bucked its hind legs. Thankfully it didn’t have as much strength as a unicorn or even a regular horse, so while it caught Stanford in the abdomen he knew the damage wasn’t severe.

 

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

 

Stanford toppled over, and the leprecorn focused on Stanley.

 

“Whoa there, buddy,” Stanley soothed, backing up and once again holding his open hands in front of him.

 

The leprecorn whinnied and charged at Stanley, head butting him straight in the pelvis and knocking him flat on his back. It jumped up on his stomach, snorted in his face, then ran off through the trees.

 

“I got the hair!” Stanford proudly declared, holding up a fist where several strands were tightly held.

 

Rick was doubled over in laughter, one hand on Fiddleford for support. If they were hoping for his sympathy at the very least they were mistaken; Fiddleford was trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

 

“Thanks for the concern,” Stanley groaned, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Ah, damn, I’m gonna feel that for days.”

 

“You fellas alright?” Fiddleford asked, wiping away a tear.

 

“Perfectly—” Stanford sprung to his feet, then immediately fell face first. “Fine.”

 

Fiddleford and Rick went over to either twin and helped them up.

 

“You, you really handled that leprecorn, babe.”

 

“I’d like to see you try.”

 

“I’ll leave it to the experts.”

 

Stanford’s glasses had fallen off when he went forward, and Fiddleford handed them over. They sat crooked on his face.

 

“Well they’re not broken this time so I’d say this was a full on success.”

 

Fiddleford bent the frames back into place. Then seeing the dust that had clung to the glass he cleaned them with the end of his shirt.

 

“How’s that, Stanford?”

 

“Much better, thank you.”

 

“Alright, spell boy, what now?” Rick asked.

 

“I’ll have to take the motor home with us,” Stanford replied. “I need to disassemble it and weave the hair through the parts. After that it should work exactly how we need it to.” He peered up at the lightening sky. “It’s getting late. Or rather, early. We’d better head home now.”

 

“Don’t break it,” Rick advised. Stanford gave him a sour look.

 

“Says the man who’s hardly worked on his own project in the past week. Come on, Stanley.”

 

Stanley let out a quick goodbye before heading after his brother.

 

“Try not to get beat up by another pony,” Rick called out. A boot flew through the air, smacking him on the side of the face and knocking off his hat. “W-what the hell!”

 

“Shut your cock holster, Rick!”

 

He rubbed his sore head. “Fuck you, you’re not getting this back.”

 

“I don’t need it.”

 

Stanley hopped along after his twin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for the next chapter. It's mostly just the boys enjoying each other's company, but it sets off events that will really get things moving.


	8. There Are Sparks In the Fire and Stars Out Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who drops by for a secret visit while ma and pa are out? Stanley makes a shocking discovery.
> 
> Warnings this chapter for mild sexual content, suggestiveness, and implied sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me posting on time and everything. Anyway, who’s ready for surprise date night? Hell yeah you are.  
> Oh, the song Stanley sings is an old folk song sometimes called ‘Ten Thousand Miles’ or ‘The Turtle Dove’.

“Alright girls, I’m off to follow the voice of the spirits,” Ma told them, patting her hair into place. “Remember, I’m meeting your father at the store this evening and we’re going to sheriff Powers’ so we won’t be back until late.” She flashed them a smile. “Have fun.”

 

“You too, ma,” Stanley returned, the twins waving her out the door.

 

As soon as she was gone Stanford brought the motor out to the kitchen, spreading his tools and the leprecorn hair across the table. Stanley watched him work, bouncing Shermie on his knee. His free hand was mindlessly playing with his ball and cup toy.

 

Disassembling the motor was no problem. Weaving the strands of leprecorn hair through the inner workings was a more intricate task. It wasn’t necessarily difficult, more that the process was time consuming. Especially if he took it too fast and tangled the hair up in gears. Finally though, after twenty minutes, he was screwing the motor back together.

 

“Finished!” he declared proudly, holding it up for his brother to see. “Now the moment of truth.”

 

“Uh, what are the chances of it exploding? Should I put Shermie in the other room?”

 

“It’ll work. There’s a ninety-eight percent probability I fixed our issue, and that’s rounding down.”

 

Stanley decided to trust his twin, adjusting Shermie on his lap both so the curious baby could see and just in case things went wrong he’d be able to quickly shield him.

 

Stanford started up the motor and it whirred to life. They held their breaths as its insides clanked loudly, filling up the kitchen. Then it sputtered a few times, paused fully as though failing, then suddenly hummed. The twins grinned at each other.

 

“It worked!”

 

“Never doubted ya, Sixer.”

 

“I am fully confident that this motor can hold up for what we need it to do now.” A curious expression crossed Stanford’s face, brow scrunching up and Stanley knew he had some complex question running through his mind.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“Not necessarily,” he slowly replied.

 

When he didn’t offer anything else Stanley prompted, “Stanford, what is it?”

 

“I just find it all curious. I’ve noticed that some of Fiddleford’s notes have equations that don’t quite make sense to me.”

 

“They can’t be too smart for you—you’re a genius.”

 

Stanford gave him a small smile. “I appreciate the sentiment. But no, it’s something else, I just can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like I’m not seeing everything.”

 

“What, like maybe they’re hiding something from us?”

 

Stanford frowned, then shook the notion away. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just some old notions they already scrapped.”

 

Doubts niggled in the back of his mind but Stanley didn’t speak them out loud. Instead he told his brother, “Can’t wait to show Rick and Fiddlesticks.”

 

Stanford beamed. “The looks on their faces will be priceless. I don’t think Rick believed I could do it.”

 

He gathered up his tools and put everything away. Then the twins started up their chores, alternating the task of watching Shermie.

 

Stanley held him as he fixed lunch for the three of them. Stanford meanwhile was outside gathering up the wash before it rained. The sky had darkened without warning, and hung the threat of a storm over their heads.

 

“ _Oh, fare you well, I must be gone_ ,” he sung, bouncing the gurgling babe, “ _and leave you for a while. But wherever I go, I will return—if I go ten thousand miles, my dear, if I go ten thousand miles_.”

 

Shermie dropped his chin onto Stanley’s shoulder as the latter checked to see if everything was cooked yet. His brother made a curious sound so he started the song back up to quiet him.

 

“ _Ten thousand miles it is so far to leave me here alone, whilst I may lie, lament, and cry, and you will not hear my_ —ah!”

 

Stanley cut himself off with a surprised shriek as hands snaked around his midsection unexpectedly. Familiar lips teasingly brushed against his neck. He settled down, realizing who it was.

 

“What in hell, Rick?”

 

“Hello to you, too, babe. Nice singing.”

 

Stanley tried to face the other man, but Rick held him firm. Feeling no urge to fight against him Stanley relented. He was more intent on figuring out what fool thing had possessed Rick to show up there, anyway.

 

“What are you doing here? How did you even find out where I live?”

 

“Gravity Falls is boring,” Rick stated between kisses, “you’re not.”

 

Something inside Stanley fluttered but he pushed that feeling down.

 

“Really not answering my questions there.”

 

“Carla told us,” Rick admitted before nipping at Stanley’s ear. He resisted the urge to melt into Rick’s embrace.

 

“My pa—”

 

“Isn’t here. Neither’s your ma.”

 

Rick’s mouth roamed lower, one hand reaching up to push Stanley’s dress off his shoulder. Stanley let his eyes close halfway, reveling in Rick’s warm ministrations.

 

“Bold bastard,” he cursed fondly.

 

He knew Rick was smirking, could feel it against his skin then hear it as the other man asked, “Wh-what was the end of that verse?”

 

It took a second for the question to register, Stanley’s mind fogging with desire. When he realized what Rick was asking he replied, voice low and strained, “ _And you will not hear my moan, my dear. And you will not hear my moan_.”

 

“Mm, that’s exactly what I want to hear.”

 

Suddenly Shermie let out a loud pitched giggle, tugging on Rick’s hair and effectively reminding them he was there. Rick pulled back and quirked his eyebrow at the babe.

 

“Ah-aren’t you cute, kid. I’m gonna steal your big brother so why don’t we dump you with Stanford? I bet Fidds will get a kick out of you.”

 

“He’s here too?” Stanley asked, trying to catch his breath.

 

Rick nodded and led the way out back where indeed Fiddleford was helping Stanford take clothes off the line. Or rather, he was exuberantly discussing something with Stanford, both of their faces bright and eager as the wind whipped the still hanging wash around them, baskets of folded linen laying forgotten on the ground.

 

Rick took Shermie and thrust him into Fiddleford’s arms with no preamble. The pair looked at them in shock, thrown off by the abrupt interruption.

 

“Ah, Stanley! I’m almost done here. Fiddleford and I got caught up in a conversation,” he admitted sheepishly.

 

“Take your time,” Rick told them, already dragging Stanley back towards the house, “I’m going to ravish your twin.”

 

“Food’s ready,” Stanley added before they disappeared inside.

 

——

 

Fiddleford looked down at the baby in his arms. Shermie returned the gaze, watching him curiously.

 

"Well ain’t you just a sweetheart? What’s your name, little fella?”

 

“This is Sherman, our little brother. Shermie, this is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Can you say hello?”

 

“Fih, fih,” the baby happily cooed.

 

“Aww, ya tryin’ ta say my name?”

 

Fiddleford beamed at the child and tickled Shermie’s chest, eliciting a delighted giggle. Watching the two, Stanford couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

 

“You are really good with children.”

 

“I would love to have my own one day. Hopefully one as cute as this little thing.”

 

“Feel free to hold him as long as you’d like. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m not very good with children of any age.”

 

“Ah, ya can’t be that bad, Stanford.”

 

“I once sat him in the laundry basket and forgot about him for an hour. I dropped clothes on him and he just laughed.”

 

Fiddleford looked at him aghast. “I’ll hold onto him fer a while.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Thake!” Shermie repeated, reaching up and grasping Fiddleford’s nose.

 

A few drops of rain landed on Stanford’s head and he glanced up. One splashed against the glass of his spectacles and they hurriedly took down the rest of the wash before rushing inside.

 

Setting the basket aside Stanford offered, “Would you like anything to eat?”

 

“Only if Stanley made enough. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

 

“It’s no problem, I’m sure he made plenty.”

 

As Stanford fixed them both a plate Fiddleford crossed to the table and settled down with Shermie in his lap. Stanford took the chair next to him.

 

“I can feed him if you’d prefer.

 

“If it’s alright with you I’d love to feed the little guy,” Fiddleford told him hopefully. “I always did for my little siblings.”

 

“By all means.”

 

Shermie didn’t fuss as Fiddleford fed him small bits of vegetables. Stanford admired the ease with which Fiddleford handled his brother, especially since they had just met. Of course Shermie wasn’t a difficult baby. In fact he was generally happy to meet new people. Fiddleford really seemed to hit it off with him, however.

 

After a few moments Stanford broke the silence, recalling their earlier, interrupted conversation.

 

“Oh, the motor! As I told you it should be fully prepared for whatever stress we put it under now.”

 

“That’s wonderful, Stanford! Isn’t yer brother so smart, little one?” He bopped Shermie gently on the nose, and the baby giggled.

 

A blush blooming across his cheeks, Stanford cleared his throat. “Ah, well, it was nothing. Tonight we can try it out and make sure I’m as smart as you think.”

 

“Whether it works or not, darling, I have no doubts about your intelligence,” Fiddleford assured. “But judging by that sky out there we won’t be testing anything tonight.”

 

Stanford waved him off. “A little storm is no reason to halt our experiment.”

 

Fiddleford gave him a dry look and firmly repeated, “Stanford, we aren’t testing anything in the rain.”

 

“You worry too much.” Fiddleford narrowed his eyes further and Stanford had to relent. “Fine, but tomorrow no matter the weather we need to make sure the reinforcement worked.”

 

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and compromised, “As long as it ain’t too bad. I don’t need any of us catching our deaths of cold.”

 

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Stanford brightened. “So, you were telling me about your other projects.”

 

Stanford leaned forward, practically forgetting his lunch as he listened to Fiddleford explain different ideas he had been tinkering around with, Shermie curling up against him as he dozed off.

 

——

 

Rick’s head was between Stanley’s thighs, kissing them as Stanley’s senses slowly returned. That man knew how to put his tongue to damn good use, there was no denying that.

 

Maybe it was the thrill of having a man he hardly knew in his room, with the possibility of his parents suddenly coming home hanging over his head maybe it was the euphoria that cascaded over him whenever Rick so much as looked at him or maybe it was the Spanish Rick murmured, words he couldn’t understand even as the tone conveyed all he needed to know, but Stanley had never felt more alive.

 

Rick finally crawled up as Stanley’s breathing slowed. He grinned down at him, cupping Stanley’s cheek and stroking his bottom lip. Then he swooped down and claimed them with his own.

 

Stanley forgot what it was like to breath without taking in Rick.

 

“ _Que bonito_ ,” he whispered against Stanley’s skin, so soft Stanley wondered if it hadn’t been meant for his ears.

 

Stanley draped his arms around Rick and gently pulled them flush together. It didn’t take long for their mouths to find each other again, and Stanley tasted the wonderful mixture of himself and Rick again.

 

Outside rain pelted the roof. Either it had just started, or Stanley had been too far gone to realize earlier. Regardless, it meant the same thing: Rick and Fiddleford would just have to stay until it died down.

 

Unless pa came home first, in which case they were going to be pushed out the back door before pa saw—and shot at—them.

 

“Hey, Rick, you hungry?” Rick gave him a lascivious look. Stanley rolled his eyes. Then his eyes fluttered shut as Rick rolled his hips just right.

 

Food could wait a few more minutes. After all, Stanley couldn’t leave his man high and dry.

 

——

 

“How many, ah, murderous machines have you completed?” Stanford wondered. Fiddleford glanced away, seeming to find the wall suddenly very interesting.

 

“Ah, well, who keeps count of something like that?” he replied with a nervous chuckle. Then under his breath, barely audible, he added, “Except for Rick.”

 

“I’d love to see your designs sometime.”

 

Fiddleford turned back to him with a surprised smile. “Well next time someone crosses me I’ll be sure to show ya.”

 

If it had been anyone else Stanford might wonder if that was a threat. Fiddleford was such a genuinely sweet man, though, at least to him, and didn’t seem quick to anger. Stanford supposed that you couldn’t be if you were traveling with Rick. Otherwise the other man would have been done for long ago.

 

There were footfalls on the steps and poorly stifled laughter. A moment later Stanley and Rick came into view, hanging off each other and matching mirth across their faces. They sat down at the table so close together one might as well have been in the other’s lap.

 

“Hey Sixer, hey Fidds. We miss anything good?”

 

“Hello there, Stanley. Stanford told me all about the motor. And this little guy,” Fiddleford readjusted the dozing babe, “is all tuckered out.”

 

Stanley reached over and ruffled Shermie’s hair. The babe yawned and nestled further into Fiddleford’s chest.

 

“Heh, he really likes you. Shermie doesn’t fall asleep in just anyone’s arms.”

 

“Must not run in the family,” Rick snickered. Stanley elbowed him in the side.

 

“I have a  knack with children,” Fiddleford said. “Have to, riding with him.”

 

Rick made a lewd gesture which he ignored.

 

“Would you like me to fix you a plate?” Stanford offered, already rising from the table.

 

“S-sounds good to me, Sixer,” Rick replied.

 

“When are your parents coming back?” Fiddleford asked. “It wouldn’t be too wise for us to be caught here.”

 

“Yeah pa’s a real good shot,” Stanley agreed. “No worries, whenever they go to sheriff Powers’ they always end up staying late. And since it’s raining they’ll probably wait even longer until it dies down.”

 

Stanley noticed the stricken look the partners exchanged but didn’t mention it.

 

Stanford set a plate in front of his twin before sitting back down. As Stanley dug in Rick wondered, “Wh-where’s mine?”

 

Stanford snorted. “Serve yourself, I’m no servant.”

 

“You served him.”

 

“He’s my brother.”

 

“I’m a guest.”

 

“I didn’t invite you.”

 

Rick and Stanford held each other’s gaze, scowling and smirking respectively.

 

Fiddleford bit his lip, rumbling with laughter. Shermie stirred and he shushed the child back asleep.

 

With an exaggerated sigh Stanley said, “We can share.” He jabbed a piece of meat with the fork and held it up for Rick who smugly put it in his mouth, never breaking eye contact with Stanford.

 

“Please behave yourselves, children,” Fiddleford chided.

 

For the next few hours they joked and enjoyed mindless conversation, sometimes one pair regaling the other with a tale of their escapades. Rick and Fiddleford were half of the time impressed and half of the time in stitches at the twins’ stories of studying the supernatural creatures living in the forest. Likewise the twins were on the edge of their seats as Rick and Fiddleford told them about narrow escapes from angry men who found the former in bed with their daughters or wives, or the time Fiddleford saved their lives by playing his banjo beautifully enough to sooth a wild creature that was part beast part human.

 

Eventually the rain calmed down to a light drizzle. Fiddleford passed the babe to Rick as Stanford led him out to the stables.

 

“Th-the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Rick demanded, holding Shermie as far away from himself as possible.

 

“Not drop him,” Fiddleford instructed before disappearing outside.

 

Rick tried to give the babe to Stanley but he said, “I’ve gotta put the wash away. Just hold him for a second, Rick.”

 

“Fine,” Rick grumbled, “but y-you better hurry. I don’t want to hold this thing any longer than I have to.”

 

Stanley ruffled Shermie’s hair and pressed a kiss to Rick’s temple. Not quite sure which it was for he said, “Be good.”

 

There wasn’t too much to deal with and thankfully Stanley finished quickly. He hastened back to the kitchen, not wanting to leave Shermie alone with Rick for too long. Apparently his fears were unfounded; when he returned Shermie was sitting on top of the table in front of Rick, gumming the man’s thumb. They were both gazing intently at each other. Stanley watched for a minute, and not once did either blink.

 

“Are you having a staring contest with a baby?”

 

“Shut your mouth, I’m winning. His little eyes aren’t as trained as mine. They’ll go down in no time.”

 

Stanley snorted and set to washing the dishes they’d used. Soon he heard Rick’s triumphant whoop, followed by Shermie’s elated squeal as he was caught up in Rick’s celebration.

 

“Congratulations on defeating an infant in a game he can’t even comprehend.”

 

“You hear that, kid? He doesn’t believe in your budding talent.”

 

“Hey I believe in him just fine. Soon as he can hold cards without chewing on them I’m teaching him poker.”

 

That comment led to Stanley bringing out his and Stanford’s deck of cards and starting a game. A few hands later the others walked back in. Fiddleford shook his head while Stanford snorted.

 

“Never play poker with Stanley,” he said, going over and picking Shermie up.

 

Rick, stripped down to his hat and boxers, and the cloth around his chest, growled.

 

“Yeah I figured that out on my own, thanks.”

 

“The rain’s let up,” Fiddleford said. “We should probably head out before your parents catch us.”

 

“Better not let that happen,” Stanley agreed, tossing his cards face up for Rick to see his three aces, “especially not like that.”

 

“Y-you cheating—”

 

Fiddleford smacked him upside the head. “Watch your language around that sweet babe.”

 

Stanley leaned across the table and winked. “You can’t prove a thing.”

 

Rick speedily redressed, realizing how late it was. Then the twins escorted them to the back door where Rick and Stanley shared a much slower kiss. Involving far too many roaming hands.

 

“Alright that’s enough,” Stanford decided, pushing Rick outside.

 

“Night Rick,” Stanley said breathlessly. “Ah, you too, Fidds.”

 

“You fellas rest up,” Fiddleford returned. Rick smirked.

 

“You’ll need all the energy you can get next time I get my hands on you.”

 

Grinning back Stanley returned, “Can’t wait.”

 

“Sleep well,” Stanford called out to Fiddleford. Then, to Rick, “Get off my property.”

 

The brothers watched them disappear into the night. They had to force themselves back inside, and then solely for Shermie’s sake. Without the other men there the house was overwhelmingly silent.

 

——

 

As they were getting ready for bed that evening ma came in. Stanley barely had time to throw a shawl over his shoulders, hiding the fresh reminders of Rick’s visit.

 

“Girls, did you two have a fun day?”

 

“Yes ma’am!” Stanley answered far too quickly. She smirked in a way that made both twins very uncomfortable, like she was opening them up and laying them bare.

 

“How was your day, ma?” Stanford asked.

 

“Oh, uneventful. At least compared to yours.”

 

Their eyes couldn’t have gotten wider even if a pig jumped through the window and sprouted wings.

 

Talking over reach other and stumbling over their own words the twins attempted to deny the unspoken accusations. Ma held up a hand, though, effectively quieting them. 

 

“Please girls, don’t forget that I was young once. I remember what it’s like.”

 

The twins let out nervous chuckles, throwing each other distressed glances.

 

“Ma, we don’t know what you’re talking about. We just did chores and played with Shermie. No, ah, nothing out of the ordinary at all.”

 

Martha reached over and pushed the shawl aside just far enough to reveal where Rick had either bitten or sucked too hard. Stanford idly wondered if Stanley could possibly turn any shade of red deeper than what he was now.

 

Before he could make another feeble attempt to convince her nothing had happened ma replaced the shawl, put a hand on either of them, and beamed.

 

“Like I said, I remember what it was like to be young. Mm, your father back then swept me off my feet. Made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.” They had a hard time imagining their pa as a romantic young man, but their ma’s eyes gleamed with old memories. Unfortunately she snapped back to the present. “Be smarter than me, Leah. You know I love you two with all my heart, but I would have appreciated you two coming a few years later.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry too, ah, too much about that, ma.”

 

Martha patted his cheek. “Good girl. So, what are their names. Let me guess—starts with t, rhymes with double.”

 

“Ma they ain’t trouble,” Stanley assured. “You’ll like them.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, if they ain’t trouble then they can’t handle my babies.”

 

The twins shared a grin and echoed, “They’re trouble.”

 

“Good. I want to meet them.”

 

Their hearts stopped.

 

Ma picked up on their hesitation and said, “You can’t keep them from me, girls. I need ta make sure they’re good enough.”

 

They knew there was no way around it, unless they jumped on their horses and rode off with Rick and Fidds that night. With a resigned sigh they both said, “Yes, ma.”

 

“It’s so nice when you decide to make things easy. Now, you two get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

 

They gulped. Then as ma turned to leave something occurred to Stanford.

 

“Wait! How did you know there are two of them?”

 

Ma smirked at them over her shoulder. “Maybe the spirits told me. Or maybe I saw a pair of strange men leaving my house this evening. You’re lucky I was able to distract Filbrick, by the way.”

 

The color drained from their faces. Ma’s laughter trailed out after her.

 

——

 

A bubble of laughter veering on hysterical almost escaped Stanley. He managed to stifle it thankfully. Stanford was asleep next to him, nestled into his side, occasionally letting out a breathy snore. It wasn’t often he fell asleep before Stanley, and it was even rarer for him to look this content. Stanley didn’t want to disturb his twin.

 

It was just all a little bit hilarious.

 

Here ma was thinking both of them had a secret beau and now they had to pull off pretending they were sweet on each other when in fact Stanford and Fidds were just kindred spirits passionate about science together while he and Rick… Well, it was just all good fun while the portal gun was getting made.

 

It wasn’t like Stanley thought of Rick, from day to night no matter what he was doing, recalling his touch all over his skin, the way he’d look through half lidded eyes at Stanley as though the rest of the world didn’t matter. The easy smile that his mouth fell into when he didn’t think Stanley was watching. The look of concentration, where his tongue would stick out of the corner of his mouth, as he worked on the gun. His scent, that strange mixture of earth and musk and some chemical he’d never know the name of.

 

Stanley shot up.

 

“Oh no.”

 

Stanford shifted slightly. Stanley leaned over and whispered his name. When no answer came, not even a twitch to show he’d heard, Stanley shook him once.

 

“Stanford? Sixer, come on. Wake up, Sixer!”

 

His brother grunted and nestled further into the blanket.

 

“Sixer!” he hissed, shaking Stanford wildly until he was staring up with startled eyes.

 

“Lee, what’s wrong?”

 

Hands still clamped on Stanford’s shoulders he took a deep breath and admitted, “I think I’m sweet on Rick.”

 

For a second they just stared at each other. A hard pit of anxiety was growing inside of Stanley, and he could feel sweat coating his forehead. A brief flash of hope shot through him—maybe it was fever, not _feelings_ —but he couldn’t hold onto the nonsensical notion.

 

“Did you hear me? This is serious, Sixer! I’m sweet on Rick!”

 

Stanford pushed himself up, his brother’s hands falling off him and hanging uselessly by his side. He reached over, one hand grasping Stanley’s shoulder and the other lying gently on his cheek.

 

“Stanley, look at me.” Stanford smiled, the smile he always gave to reassure his twin, and held it until it was returned, albeit shakily. Then he slapped Stanley upside the head. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Come on!” Stanley exclaimed indignantly as Stanford plopped back down. “You can’t react this way after I say something like—something like that.”

 

His voice had given a funny little hitch at the end which Stanley silently cursed. He glanced away, at the sliver of moonlight flitting into their room. He knew Stanford was watching him, felt his brother’s eyes boring holes into his skull. Finally there was a sigh, and Stanford squeezed his hand.

 

“Stanley, let me tell you something very important.”

 

Stanley waited, but Stanford didn’t continue. He glanced down.

 

“Stanley, I told you so.”

 

Stanley narrowed his eyes and ripped the pillow out from under Stanford’s head. Stanford let out a small squeak of surprise that was quickly stifled when Stanley smacked him with the pillow right across the face. Stanford burst into laughter and Stanley found himself joining in despite himself.

 

He plopped back down next to Stanford, and for a while the quiet was only broken by random fits of laughter. If one started the other joined in. It was a long time before they calmed down.

 

“Lee, I hope you’re not expecting love advice from me.”

 

Stanley snorted. “Not even a desperate man would sink that low.” The twins giggled again in agreement. “Night, Sixer.”

 

“Night, Lee.” He reached out in the darkness and took Stanley’s hand again. “It will be fine. Let’s just focus on surviving tomorrow. Or more accurately ensuring Rick and Fiddleford survive ma.”

 

“Yeah, that’s gonna take all our effort.”

 

“Indeed. Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The feeling is mutual.”

 

Stanley’s head snapped to the side as he demanded, “Wait, what?”

 

“Goodnight, Stanley.”

 

“You can’t just say something like that and not tell me more!”

 

“Hush before you wake up pa.”

 

Much quieter Stanley insisted, “Sixer, _please_. How does he look at me?”

 

“With his eyes. Sleep tight, Lee.”

 

Stanley could see the wide grin on his twin’s face. Frustrated he stared up at the ceiling, letting out a petulant huff. Then Stanford squeezed his hand again. Suddenly all the tension left him in one long sigh.

 

“Night, Sixer.”

 

He closed his eyes and managed finally to fall asleep, dreaming about a slick grin and warm kisses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the binder anachronism? Hahaha wonder what that's about ;)


	9. Pale the Moon Shines From Below the Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma meets Rick and Fiddleford, and the twins learn what Pa's been planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Saturday, another chapter. Though this one isn’t too long, and is just a bit of set up. Warnings for a brief moment of implied child abuse.

The twins were both balls of nervous energy. Stanley had woken up far too early, in the process rousing Stanford. Unable to get back to sleep they spent hours simultaneously panicking and getting ready.

 

Ma, frustratingly enough, seemed bright and bushy tailed—and far too amused by their restlessness.

 

“Girls, calm down. You act like I’m going to eat them alive.”

 

Stanley, who had been scanning the street for any signs of them, turned to her with wide eyes. “You might!”

 

She laughed, which made Shermie giggle along happily.

 

“Ma, please! This is serious!”

 

Ma gave him a knowing look, glint in her eyes. “You must really like this fella.”

 

A blush crept up his neck and Stanley quickly turned back out to the street.

 

Ma glanced over at Stanford who had remained mostly quiet since they had left the house. He met her gaze and immediately regretted it.

 

“So tell me about your man, Leanne.”

 

“Ma, has it occurred to you that perhaps _my man_ is simply a very good friend who shares a common interest?”

 

She leveled him with an unimpressed look and told him, “Sweetie, that’s more than a lot of married couples have.”

 

Stanford opened his mouth but couldn’t dispute her words. Instead he revealed, “He’s very sweet, you’ll like him.”

 

“I’m sure. I’d love to meet them sometime today, girls,” she replied pointedly. Stanley pointedly ignored her.

 

Of course they couldn’t just take ma up to the saloon. That was a bad idea all around. And no way were they going to be anywhere near pa’s store. He had a gun in there! Stanley had no desire to see a barrel pointed at Rick’s face. So they were waiting down another street, far away from either location.

 

Before ma had woken up they had snuck out and begged Susan to tell Carla what was going on, and to get the pair where they needed to be to meet ma. They were taking so long, though, and every passing second added a new stone in his stomach.

 

Stanley was starting to think that, if they never showed up, he’d shoot Rick himself.

 

Stanford urgently nudged him and Stanley turned. Carla was coming their way, arms linked with Rick and Fidds so they couldn’t get away. The latter looked ready to jump out of his skin. Rick had a resigned, though by no means pleased, look on his face.

 

Susan popped out from behind them and announced, “Special delivery!”

 

For a moment everyone just stared at each other. Carla and Susan beamed. Ma looked them up and down, initial impression unreadable. Stanley and Stanford both considered running into the forest and living there forever to avoid all this.

 

Finally, Shermie giggled and reached chubby little hands towards the men.

 

“Fidds! Fidds!”

 

“Well hello ag—I mean, little fella I’ve never seen before.” Fiddleford let out a small nervous chuckle. Stanley slapped a hand to his face.

 

Ma shot him a silencing look, and he paled.

 

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” Stanley asked, glancing at the girls. They shook their heads. “Go.”

 

Carla let go of the men and pushed them forward. They stumbled, nearly toppling over onto the dirt. Rick turned back to glare at them but they were already halfway down the street, giggling and waving.

 

“So these are the men courting my little girls,” ma commented, appraising the pair as they straightened themselves.

 

“Ma’am I can assure you it’s not—” Ma gave him that same look from before and Fiddleford’s denials died on his tongue. He gulped and tipped his hat. “Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet ya.”

 

“So charming. You must be Leanne’s beau.”

 

A flash of confusion crossed their faces. Stanley discretely motioned with his eyes towards Stanford. Thankfully Fiddleford got the hint and quickly nodded.

 

“Right on the button, ma’am!”

 

Stanley went to Rick’s side and grabbed his arm. “And this is Rick Sanchez, ma. My, uh, my…”

 

“Howdy, ma’am,” Rick said, cutting off Stanley’s floundering.

 

“Well what fine gentlemen you girls found yourselves,” ma teased, a small smile flitting across her face.

 

Shermie, who had been struggling in her arms, whined as he reached out again for Fiddleford. Martha took notice and gave the man an amused glance.

 

“He’s never so adamant about strangers.”

 

“Ah, well, I just have that effect on kids?”

 

Stanford rubbed the bridge of his nose. Fiddleford shrugged apologetically.

 

Martha handed Shermie to Fiddleford who, after his initial shock, quickly readjusted the baby. Shermie giggled happily as the man tickled his chest.

 

“Alright, wasn’t this lovely?” Stanley spoke up, letting go of Rick. “Well you met them, ma. Now they’ve gotta get outta here. Important things to do, you know how men are.”

 

Stanley laughed though it sounded more like a shriek of nerves as everyone focused on him.

 

“Leah Pines! I’ve hardly been introduced. I told you ya can’t keep these boys hidden from me and I mean it.”

 

“They’re not hidden, they’re right here,” Stanley insisted. “And they’ve gotta go. Don’t you?”

 

Rick opened his mouth, an agreement half out when Fiddleford interjected, “It would be awfully rude to shove off when we’ve just met your mother.”

 

Rick and the twins stared at him in disbelief. Ma grinned.

 

“You were right, hon, he is a sweet boy. And smart.”

 

“Thank ya kindly, Mrs. Pines.”

 

“Call me Martha.”

 

That was good. That was really good.

 

“Ya know, if you’re gonna be courting my daughters you’re gonna do it right.”

 

That was bad.

 

“You’re gonna start by coming to our house for supper.”

 

That was really bad.

 

“Ma!” the twins exclaimed in unison.

 

“You want pa to shoot them?”

 

Fiddleford raised a hand and squeaked, “I’d appreciate not getting shot.”

 

“Same,” Rick agreed.

 

“You just let me handle yer father.” She gave the four a confident grin. “Now, tomorrow evening I better see you two at our home, six o’clock sharp. Or I’ll shoot ya myself.”

 

The last part had been said in a teasing tilt, but Rick and Fiddleford both gulped nonetheless.

 

“She a good shot too?” Rick wondered, leaning towards Stanley.

 

“Probably better than pa.”

 

“G-great.”

 

Martha took her baby back, still grinning, and repeated, “Six o’clock sharp, boys.”

 

“Yes, ma’am!” Fiddleford hurriedly agreed. She patted his cheek.

 

“I’ll let you girls get your goodbyes in. Meet me at the shop.”

 

The twins watched her walk off; the other two seemed to be purposefully looking anywhere but at her.

 

“Well that could have gone worse,” Stanford ventured when she was out of sight.

 

“I-I can’t believe your mother is forcing us to come for dinner.”

 

“You’re lucky ma is an understanding lady,” Stanley told them. “If anyone else saw two idiots sneaking out of their home you’d either have a bullet in you or a noose around your neck.”

 

“I feel like I’ve got that anyway,” Rick grumbled. Fiddleford rubbed his neck as though he agreed.

 

Stanley rolled his eyes and said, “Just be on your best behavior tomorrow. This needs to go as smoothly as possible if we want to finish that damn portal gun.”

 

“Perhaps you should practice interacting with people like a civilized man instead of an uncouth drunk,” Stanford quipped.

 

Rick narrowed his eyes. Then he was smirking and sliding an arm around Stanley. He leaned in close so their faces were only inches apart.

 

“No worries, L-Lee. I’ll impress your pa. By the way, cute dress. I’d love to see what it looks like pushed up your thighs.”

 

Stanley could feel himself instantly turn red and knew Rick noticed.

 

“Rick, we are in public!” Fiddleford admonished.

 

“Hey there, there’s plenty of little areas to hide away in around here.”

 

“Alright, we’re gone!” Stanley suddenly exclaimed, grabbing his twin by the wrist. He pulled Stanford along saying, words practically running together, “See you tonight to test that motor!”

 

The pair were silent as they walked towards the shop and away from the other men. Stanley could sense something just wanted to burst out of Stanford’s mouth, and after a minute Stanley relented with a sigh.

 

“What is it, Sixer?”

 

Wasting no time Stanford noted, “You seemed flustered by Rick’s usual advances.”

 

“What about it?” Stanley growled.

 

Stanford grinned and in a singsong voice said, “You’re sweet on him.”

 

Stanley punched him in the arm.

 

“Thanks for rubbin’ salt in the wound, Sixer.”

 

“I admittedly deserved that. As I told you last night, Lee, it’ll be fine. Just, let’s not set the town on fire, alright?”

 

I’m not promising nothin’.”

 

Before they even stepped into the shop the twins paused at the sound of their mother yelling with a  hot anger they’d never heard before.

 

“Filbrick Pines, how dare you!”

 

Shermie began to cry and the twins hurried inside. Ma was already comforting him, glaring daggers at pa behind the counter. He was as stoic as ever, unimpressed at his wife’s rage.

 

“What’s going on?” Stanley asked, subconsciously stepping in front of Stanford.

 

“Go outside,” Filbrick ordered.

 

“But pa—”

 

“ _Now_ , Leah.”

 

Stanford placed an urging hand on his shoulder. Stanley glanced at ma who had succeeded in quieting Shermie down to a weak whimper.

 

“Sweeties, go wait outside,” Ma told them, coming over and handing Shermie to him. Not bothering to keep her voice down she added, “I don’t need ya seeing me murder ya father.”

 

Reluctantly Stanley let his brother lead him back outside. Finding it impossible to stand still, though, he paced the length of the porch, rubbing circles on Shermie’s back.

 

Stanford meanwhile stood near the door, biting his lip. He had tried listening in but their parents were speaking in hushed tones now, most likely for this very reason.

 

“Ah, ladies!” a very unwelcome voice called out.

 

The twins’ heads snapped towards the approaching pair. Stanley instantly tensed and thrust Shermie into Stanford’s arms.

 

“I’m in no mood to deal with you two so just git now before I get real angry.”

 

“Why, Leah, something’s gotten you all argufied,” Bud commented.

 

“You must not have heard the good news yet.”

 

The twins shared a confused glance. Preston and Bud seemed delighted to be the first to tell them whatever they had to tell them.

 

“You both are to be wed to us,” Preston said.

 

“Who’ll be married to whom hasn’t quite been decided yet, but there’s plenty of time to iron out those little details.”

 

Dazed, the twins slowly turned to each other. Their brains had shut off momentarily, leaving them speechless for a good long minute. This seemed to greatly amuse the other men as they shared a chuckle.

 

“I do believe we’ve left them dumbfounded, Preston.”

 

“Now if only we could keep them this quiet.”

 

“We’ll leave you ladies to your day. This sort of good news is a lot to digest, and I’m sure you’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

 

“I’ll send by a catalogue of wedding dresses for you to look at.”

 

They didn’t wait for a reply. The twins couldn’t turn away from each other, but they heard the men’s footsteps as they left.

 

As one they exclaimed, “Pa!” and raced back into the shop.

 

“I thought I told you—”

 

“You’re trying to pawn us off on those two?” Stanley interjected, undeterred by their father’s cold tone.

 

“Is this what you’ve been hiding from us?”

 

Martha sighed and went over to them. When she tried to put a consoling arm around Stanley, though, he shrugged her off and kept a furious gaze locked on Filbrick.

 

“I will be dead before I’m married to either of those bastards, same goes for Sixer.”

 

Stanford nodded shakily, though Filbrick was turned towards Stanley and whether or not his agreement was noted he couldn’t tell.

 

“Leah, don’t take that tone with me,” Pa warned, the unspoken threat loud and clear.

 

Stanford could sense more rage bubbling inside his twin and placed a hand on his upper arm. Thankfully Stanley bit his tongue.

 

Ma stepped between them, hands up in a calming manner before they ended up on her hip.

 

“Alright everyone calm down. I’m not gonna have you two steaming all night just because you’re both hardheaded like a couple of bulls.” Pa opened his mouth but she sent him a withering glare. “Now, girls, yes yer father thought it was a brilliant idea to try and arrange your marriages behind your backs. Not every idea he has is a good one.”

 

“Martha!” Pa very nearly whined. She continued on unhindered.

 

“But don’t you worry your little heads, girls, because your ma is an amazing woman and convinced your father to meet your gentlemen callers before anything gets set in stone.”

 

Stanford let out a breath of relief as Stanley threw his arms around ma gratefully. Then he was pulled into the hug. Unbidden, a laugh bubbled out of him which Stanley mirrored.

 

“You’re the greatest Ma! And don’t worry, pa, you’ll like them.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

The twins doubted it, too.

 

——

 

Stanley could spend the whole night staring out into the lake. He had before. It was his favorite part of the whole forest, something about the calm water soothing in a way nothing else in Gravity Falls could match.

 

The surprise had been plain on Stanford’s face when he suggested coming out here. He hadn’t commented on the decision, though, for which Stanley was incredibly thankful for.

 

He had never brought anyone here besides Carla once, and that was different. The lake was more than just a nice view to bring a nice face to. The lake was special. Hell, Rick and Fidds were special, too.

 

The twins hadn’t explained their father’s arrangement, or the stipulation that they’d have to really impress him to call off the engagement. Something very few people could accomplish because pa was not an easily impressed man.

 

For their part the others had instantly sensed something was wrong, especially since Stanford had been so frazzled he had forgotten the motor. When they weren’t forthcoming with their problems neither Rick nor Fiddleford pressed them.

 

“You know the lake has a monster,” Stanley said suddenly, disturbing the silence that had been over the four.

 

“Monster?” Fiddleford gulped.

 

“We call it the Gobblewonker,” Stanford said. “She’s a lovely creature, really. She can eat a duck whole.”

 

Fiddleford blanched and pulled his feet out of the water.

 

“Hah-half the shit you tell us about these woods sounds made up,” Rick said. “Which probably means it’s all true.”

 

“Yeah, they’re something else,” Stanley agreed, still gazing out across the water.

 

Again the group lapsed into silence. Rick laid his chin on the crook of Stanley’s neck and squeezed his hip. Stanley felt around for Rick’s other hand. Rick let him hold it.

 

After a while Stanley finally tore his gaze away to look over at his twin. Stanford returned the gaze. One of them started grinning like a maniac, and the other mirrored him, unsure who had started.

 

“Leah Northwest, can you imagine?”

 

“Oh, so it’s going to be Leanne Gleeful, then?”

 

“Leah Gleeful.”

 

“Leanne Northwest.”

 

They shared a shudder and then burst into raucous laughter. They were hanging off each other, and when Stanley fell backwards Stanford did the same. The other two stared at them curiously, which only made them laugh harder.

 

“Would you fellas like to fill us in? I admit I’m mighty confused.”

 

Stanley managed a single, incomprehensible word before delving into laughter once more. Stanford giggled, but managed to swallow the hysterical sound back down.

 

“If you two can’t get on pa’s good side, we have to marry the two most obnoxious—”

 

“Most stuck up—”

 

“Absolutely ignorant—”

 

“Absolutely _worst_ —”

 

“Men in Gravity Falls.”

 

Another bark of laughter escaped Stanley. Stanford saw the stricken expressions on Rick and Fiddleford’s faces and snickered anew.

 

“No pressure, then,” Rick said after a moment.

 

Wiping tears from his eyes Stanley vowed, “It ain’t gonna happen. One way or another, Sixer and me ain’t marrying those dirtbags. No matter what we gotta do.”

 

“Agreed. That being said, we’d much appreciate it if you were on your best behavior tomorrow. Don’t do anything to make pa shoot you.”

 

“I-I-I have a feeling that’s easier said than done.”

 

Stanley snorted, which soon turned into more tittering. Stanford followed suit again. Rick and Fidds plopped down besides the brothers and joined in, their wild laughter filing up the otherwise quiet night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week Rick and Fidds attempt to impress Filbrick.


	10. If You Should Wake With the Wind on Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Fidds meet Filbrick, the twins have a race, and then they have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy we're finally to this chapter. It's one of the earliest scenarios I envisioned when I was coming up with this story. 
> 
> Besides some mild sexual content, because Rick doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself, nothing to warn for this chapter.

Stanley had been running around like a headless chicken all day. Stanford repeatedly tried to calm him down even though he was no better, and as the hour drew nearer both were nervous wrecks.

 

“Girls, the way you’re worrying you act like ya got no faith in your sparks.”

 

The twins shared a look. As one they confirmed, “We don’t.”

 

“Listen, sweeties, if you’ve got a man you love—”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stanley interjected, pulling at his collar. “Why are we using that word? No one said anything about— _that word_.”

 

Ma looked partially amused and partially dubious, but she didn’t get a chance to challenge him. There was a knock on the kitchen door and through the screen they saw Susan’s perky smile.

 

“Well don’t you two look just fantastic!” she gushed when Stanford opened the door.

 

“I worked my magic,” ma teased. “Nothing could be done about the Pines’ hair, though.”

 

“Aw, I think it looks fine.”

 

“Aren’t you just a doll. Let me go get Shermie for you.”

 

When she was gone the twins crowded Susan, throwing out question after question and talking over each other. Somehow she managed to keep track of it all.

 

“They’re on their way, don’t worry. And they look great! Carla cleaned them up good so you got a real pair of belvederes on your hands. They look like proper gentlemen.”

 

Both twins let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Now to keep up the charade,” Stanford quipped.

 

Ma came back and handed the baby over to Susan. She pressed a quick kiss to his temple then told her, “Thank you so much for watching him, sweetie.”

 

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Pines. You all have fun.” She winked at the twins. “Good luck.”

 

It wasn’t much longer before there was a knock at the front door. Stanley and Stanford raced over, almost bowling over their pa. They argued over who should answer it for a moment before ma threw it open herself.

 

“Evening, ma’am!” Fiddleford greeted. Beside him Rick nodded once.

 

“Howdy.”

 

Fiddleford held up a blooming bouquet and Rick followed suit, looking less thrilled than his partner.

 

“We brought flowers for the beauties of the house.”

 

“Aww, how sweet.” Ma gladly accepted both bouquets on the twins’ behalf, holding them up to her nose and smiling at the sweet scent. “They’re lovely. When was the last time you got me flowers, Filbrick?”

 

Pa, who stood off to the side scrutinizing the pair, asked, “When did we get married?”

 

“Filbrick Pines, if that’s a real question you can sleep in the stables tonight. You boys come on in while I go put these in some water.”

 

The twins motioned them inside, pleading silently for them to pull this off. Rick grinned in a way he probably thought was reassuring, but really wasn’t.

 

“You two look just lovely this evening,” Fiddleford complimented, coming in.

 

Stanley sent him a withering look before turning to pa.

 

“Pa, this is Rick Sanchez and Fiddleford…”

 

“Fiddleford Hadron McGucket,” Stanford supplied.

 

“Yeah, that mouthful.”

 

Pleasure ta meet ya, sir.”

 

Fiddleford held out his hand. Pa didn’t move a muscle. After a tense moment Rick reached over and lowered his partner’s arm.

 

Stanley let out a nervous chuckle and glanced over at Stanford who looked like he was ready to crawl into a hole and hope something came along to bury him.

 

Thankfully ma came back.

 

“Alright, girls, dinner’s ready. Why don’t you take our guests’ things and help me in the kitchen.”

 

The twins hurriedly took their hats and jackets, aware of pa’s cold gaze on them. Ma noticed it too and led him into the other room.

 

“L-level with me, Lee. Is your father a supernatural creature?”

 

“He’s a damn good shot, and hard to impress but easy to irritate. So do us all a favor and get on his good side.”

 

“How?” Fiddleford wondered.

 

“Sacrifice a goat,” Rick suggested.

 

Stanley groaned into his hands.

 

“Please just survive a few minutes alone with him,” Stanford said. “I’m sure you can handle that. Actually, Rick, let Fiddleford do all the talking.”

 

Rick opened his mouth but Stanley quickly put a hand on the small of his and Fiddleford’s backs and pushed them towards the dinning room.

 

“I have a good feeling about this,” Stanley lied as they went into the kitchen.

 

“I’ll consider it a success if no one dies.”

 

“I love your optimistic spirit.”

 

Ma was smirking when they entered the kitchen. She put a hand on either of their shoulders and said, “This is gonna be a fun night.”

 

“Ma, you’re way too calm about all this.”

 

Martha patted their cheeks. “I hid his bullets.”

 

The twins let out a sigh of relief.

 

“You’re a genius, Ma.”

 

“Yes, thank you, even if it implies you have no faith in them, either,” Stanford joked.

 

“It’s called covering all our bases. Now help me with the roast.”

 

When they brought the food out they entered an unnervingly silent room. Fiddleford’s leg was bouncing at a rate almost too fast for the human eye. Rick looked like he hadn’t had a drink all day and would actually kill for one. Stanley could identify with that.

 

“I see you menfolk are getting to know each other,” Ma commented idly as she and the twins served them.

 

Pa grunted in a way that made the twins decide silence had probably been for the best.

 

“This all just smells wonderful, ma’am,” Fiddleford complimented. Ma beamed.

 

“It’s just a little something, nothing too fancy.”

 

“Now don’t sell yourself short! Mm, reminds me of my own ma’s cooking.”

 

“Oh? Where are ya from, Mr. McGucket?” she asked as she and the twins took their seats.

 

“Oh, heh, just Fiddleford is fine, ma’am.”

 

“Only if you call me Martha.”

 

“Ah, alright, ma-Martha. I’m from Tennessee originally. Grew up on a hog farm.”

 

“You look like a piglet could bowl you over,” pa commented. Ma smacked his arm.

 

Stanley nudged his twin and gave him a pointed look; pa wasn’t wrong. Stanford kicked him under the table, gratified as Stanley bit his tongue to stifle a yelp.

 

“That’s a long way from Oregon, dear.”

 

Fiddleford have a nervous little laugh.

 

“Ah, well, sometimes a man’s gotta go out and make it on his own.”

 

“I understand that,” Ma said, lovingly patting her husband’s hand. “That’s how we ended up in Gravity Falls.”

 

“Yeah, what a town,” Rick mumbled. Stanley kicked him, making Rick drop his fork which clanged loudly against his plate. Pa glanced his way in disapproval.

 

“So, boys, how’d you two find yourselves here?” ma quickly asked. “Were you specifically looking for a pair of pretty young girls to woo?”

 

“Ma!” the twins exclaimed.

 

Rick smirked and told her, “That was just a happy accident.”

 

“Ah, yes, it was a nice surprise meeting your girls, ma’am. Martha.”

 

Pa was scowling, but he didn’t say a word. A good sign or a sign of danger, the twins couldn’t tell.

 

“I’ll bet,” ma said with a wink that made Fiddleford flush red and Rick hide his face behind his cup. “So how did you two meet?”

 

The partners shared a fast glance which Stanley and Stanford didn’t miss. They leaned forward as the other men started talking. The two had never offered much of their past, and the twins were curious what they’d say, though their answer made them think the pair was hiding something. Not necessarily the words themselves, but their tone and sudden air of nervousness.

 

“We met in Tennessee.”

 

“Rick helped out on the farm a bit, then when he packed up I decided to venture out with him.”

 

Fiddleford was almost as bad at lying as Stanford was. Not for the first time Stanley wondered how the man had made it this far in life. It was the twins’ turn to share a secretive look, agreeing to try and wrangle the truth out of them when they got the pair alone.

 

“What exactly is it that you do?” pa inquired gruffly, as though he was already underwhelmed in the answer.

 

“We’re engineers,”Fiddleford replied with a hint of pride.

 

“Engineers?”

 

“Yes sir! We’re goin’ to change the world with our inventions.”

 

Pa grunted dubiously. Ma squeezed his hand just a bit too hard, judging by his slight grimace.

 

“Look at my girls, finding themselves ambitious inventors.”

 

Stanley started laughing. When he didn’t stop Stanford reached over and shoved a roll in his mouth. 

 

Ma continued grilling the pair. She was especially keen to find out about their families. Pa made no comments, listening with disinterest plain on his face.

 

“My parents had a total of five, me being the middle one,” Fiddleford said.

 

“Oh, something you and Lee have in common!”

 

“ _Twins_ , Sixer.”

 

“As your older sibling, you shouldn’t take that tone with me, Lee.”

 

Rick chuckled and said, “Y-you make me glad I’m an only child.”

 

“Ah, Rick, don’t you consider me a brother by this point?” Fiddleford asked, grinning over at the other man. Rick’s eyebrow quirked up.

 

“Correction, you make me wish I was an only child again.”

 

“You both must miss your families so much,” Ma said wistfully, no doubt thinking of the sisters she left back in Jersey.

 

The mirth seemed to leave Rick all at once as he again hid his face, this time behind a forkful of food. Fiddleford averted his eyes to his own plate.

 

“Ah, yes, it’s, um, been a while since we—we’ve seen or spoken. But I suppose that’s just life when you’re trying to, ah, make your own path and all.”

 

“You mean start up your own family,” ma supplied with a wink that once again brought a shade of red to Fiddleford’s cheeks. Stanford nearly choked on his drink.

 

When dinner was over ma ushered pa, Rick, and Fiddleford into the other room while she and the twins cleared the table. She looked rather pleased.

 

“This night is going better than expected, girls.”

 

“He hates them,” Stanley pointed out, very nearly whining. Ma patted his cheek.

 

“Yer father hates most everyone, sweetie.”

 

“Those are some real inspiring words, ma.”

 

“Don’t sass me, Leah. Besides, he hasn’t kicked them out yet, right? Meaning he’s still considering on letting them court you two.”

 

She had a point, the twins couldn’t argue that. New hope surged through them.

 

They headed into the other room, stopping in the doorway as they were hit by a sight they hardly could believe: pa wasn’t scowling.

 

A corner of his mouth was curled upwards, the closest thing they’d ever seen to a smile on his face not directed at ma. The brothers glanced at each other then at ma. She was just as shocked as they were.

 

“I wonder if it’s possible we somehow stepped through a rift sending us into a mirror world,” Stanford mused softly.

 

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Leanne. I told you this as going well,” ma said, pushing them both forward.

 

Fiddleford stood as they entered, nudging Rick to do the same. He rolled his eyes but thankfully complied.

 

“What gentlemen,” Stanley teased. Rick winked, and he had to look away, instantly flustered.

 

“So what were you boys talking about?” Ma asked as she sat down next to her husband.

 

The twins took a seat next to their respective man. Stanley’s heart nearly stopped when Rick wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He looked over at his twin who was staring towards his lap in wonder. Stanley followed his gaze and saw that Fiddleford had threaded their fingers together, and their intertwined hands were resting on Fiddleford’s thigh. Stanley bit back a grin, storing the image away for later teasing.

 

“Oh we were just discussing Gravity Falls,” Fiddleford informed. “Mr. Pines was just a-wondering what we thought of the people here.”

 

“Not much,” Rick added, and Filbrick’s lips twitched upwards again.

 

Of course—the only thing that could possibly endear them to pa was talking despairingly about the folk around here.

 

The rest of the evening went smoothly, and by the time the sun was setting Stanley and Stanford were in high spirits. Pa’s mouth never quite made it into a smile proper or anything too similar, but he had stopped scowling. It was better than they could have hoped for.

 

Ma suggested they take the pair outside on the porch. Pa didn’t even protest.

 

Giddily they took Rick and Fiddleford by the arm and led them out the back door. They plopped down on the swing, pulling the other men down with them. The swing went back suddenly, nearly toppling them all onto the ground.

 

“H-h-holy shit!” Rick exclaimed.

 

“He doesn’t hate you!” Stanley threw his arms around Rick.

 

“Pa might actually consent to this,” Stanford agreed with amazement, unsure if he should even let himself believe how well it was all going. “We won’t have to marry Bud and Preston.”

 

“We’d never let that happen,” Fiddleford assured, clasping Stanford’s hands between his own.

 

“If this didn’t go well we were just going to steal you on your wedding day.”

 

“Huh, not a bad idea,” Stanley mused.

 

“Until a posse was organized to hunt us down.”

 

Shrugging Rick said, “Details, details. Th-that doesn’t matter now.”

 

“I would like to point out that we’re not out of the clear yet. Pa could still decide at any moment it’s more beneficial for him to marry us off to those two.”

 

Rick reached over and tugged on a lock of Stanford’s hair. “Don’t worry your p-pretty little head.”

 

Stanford narrowed his eyes.

 

“I’m being realistic here. I’m quite impressed that this far you’ve managed to not show pa your bad side—which, for the record, are most of your sides, Rick. Now you two need to keep it up. Or we will have to follow through with some poorly thought out kidnapping.”

 

“Eh, either way works for me.”

 

Stanford opened his mouth to berate him, but Rick was already pressing his own against Stanley’s and he knew the words would just fall on deaf ears. Instead he rolled his eyes and turned back to Fiddleford.

 

His hands were still around Stanford’s. He could feel his extra fingers and was gripped with sudden anxiety. Inside Fiddleford had held them, as well, and never seemed to mind them. Since they’d met he had never mentioned them—which of course, he was just too polite to. But to actually _touch_ them? If it was his brother or ma, or even Carla or Susan, it would be no matter. Fiddleford was a different matter.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what kind of matter, though.

 

“Alright, you two, you’d better ease up,” Fiddleford said, snapping Stanford out of his own head. He glanced at the pair whose hands had started to roam in a way that was not at all respectable.

 

“Pa will without a doubt shoot you if he sees how far you’ve hiked up Stanley’s skirt.”

 

Rick and Stanley managed to pull themselves apart. Then they glanced over and smirked.

 

“Yeesh, Sixer, I don’t think you have room to be lecturing us.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Y-you’re holding his hands like you’re planning to propose,” Rick pointed out.

 

They both looked down, and as Fiddleford hurriedly released him Stanford likewise reeled back, bringing his hands defensively to his chest. The others snickered, and he grew bright red. Sneaking a quick glance he saw Fiddleford was now a similar shade.

 

Stanford cleared his throat and, as stern as he could managed, said, “We need to focus on the task at hand.”

 

This just made the pair burst into full blown laughter, Stanley pressing his head into Rick’s chest. Stanford and Fiddleford both narrowed their eyes, then in unison they smacked either on the back of the head. The pair weren’t deterred, however, and if anything they just laughed all the harder.

 

“Sounds like you’re having fun out here,” ma said, popping out the door.

 

Stanley and Rick flew apart, slamming into his twin and nearly going over the side of the swing respectively. Ma hid a grin behind her hand. Stanford wasn’t nearly as polite, snickering loud enough for them to hear.

 

“Ma!” Stanley squeaked.

 

“And pa,” she said, taking a few steps forward so Filbrick could come out, as well. The four instantly straightened. They relaxed just a bit as Ma wrapped her arms through pa’s and told them, “Yer father and I just thought we’d take a little stroll. Care to join us?”

 

“It is a lovely evening,” Fiddleford commented. “What do you say, ah, darling?”

 

For some reason the term of endearment made Stanford’s face heat up. Which was quite illogical since he was almost positive, judging by the slight hesitation, that Fiddleford had simply forgotten his birth name. Still, Stanford found himself unable to form an answer. Thankfully Stanley piped up.

 

“Nah, you two have fun. We were gonna show them Astra and Chestnut.”

 

“Astra and Chestnut?” Rick repeated.

 

“Our horses. Maybe we’ll take you for a ride. Uh, if that’s alright, pa?”

 

The twins looked hopefully at their father. To their utter amazement he said, “Don’t be out too late.”

 

“Thanks pa!” they exclaimed in unison, jumping to their feet and pulling the other two towards the stables.

 

“Separate horses!” he hollered out. Stanley held up a hand in acknowledgment.

 

Rick whistled, leaning against a wooden beam as the twins saddled up their horses. Stanley glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Got something to say, Rick?”

 

“N-nothing you’ll like.”

 

“What a change,” Stanford mumbled.

 

Stanley turned fully around and looked Rick right in the eye. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“Just wondering how well you ride.”

 

“Oh yeah? Hey Sixer, wanna race?”

 

“Are you really prepared to drive them away?” he returned with a grin.

 

“I don’t know, maybe they’re man enough to handle us.”

 

Stanford pretended to consider this, reveling in the look of faux indignation on their faces. Finally he decided, “We’ll see.”

 

“I do believe we’re being mocked,” Fiddleford said.

 

Rick hummed in agreement as the twins mounted their steeds. They steered the horses over to the other men, then extended their arms for either to take.

 

Rick looked at Stanley’s offered hand and smirked. “N-not respectable at all, are you?”

 

“I do believe neither of them are,” Fiddleford agreed.

 

“Good thing you’re not either,” Stanley said.

 

“Either of you. Now get on.”

 

They hoisted the pair up and let them get settled. Rick wasted no time in grasping Stanley’s hips and leaning forward. His breath tickled Stanley’s ear and he stared straight ahead, trying to suppress a shiver.

 

He glanced over at his brother to check if they were ready. Fiddleford seemed unsure of where to put his hands.

 

“You better hold on, Fiddlesticks, or Sixer’ll let you fall off.”

 

“Worry about your own passenger,” Stanford said as Fiddleford finally grasped his sides. “Now, where to?”

 

“Edge of the forest and back.”

 

Stanford nodded, Stanley returned it, and just like that they were off.

 

The stable door was too narrow for them to exit together, and Stanley made it there first, if only by a split second. In a race between these two there was no margin for error.

 

Chestnut took off across their property. Stanley could hear his brother gaining on him and glanced back; Stanford was hot on his hooves. He flashed Rick a grin.

 

“Hang on tight!”

 

Stanley turned back around and leaned in close, urging Chestnut faster. The fence was quickly approaching. Stanley waited—and then Chestnut bolted over. She landed cleanly on the other side and continued on without pause. Apparently taking his advice, Rick’s hands gripped harder.

 

There was no time to celebrate as Stanford pulled up next to him, and they were neck in neck. Stanford had the audacity to wave. Stanley tapped Chestnut’s sides with his feet. She nayed in acknowledgement, pushing forward until they were ahead by the length of her body. Rick’s laugh echoed in Stanley’s ear.

 

From here to the forest there were few obstacles. The only thing Stanley needed to focus on was keeping a decent pace without prematurely tiring Chestnut. And maybe Rick’s weight against his back. That was very easy to focus on.

 

Those hands had wrapped around him as they sped up, now squeezing his abdomen dangerously low. Stanley gulped and hoped it went unnoticed, or at least attributed to the exertion of the race. A race which was getting harder to concentrate on.

 

This close, he could catch faint wisps of Rick’s musk. It urged him to win.

 

He could hear clomping close behind them and chanced another glance over his shoulder. Astra was so close he didn’t even need to crane that far around. Soon enough they had saddled up next to them once more.

 

“You look a little flustered there, Sixer,” he teased.

 

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not the one running from his feelings.”

 

Stanley sputtered indignantly. He glowered at his twin, and Stanford glowered back. They spurred their horses on.

 

“Uh, fellas?” Fiddleford piped up. “Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

 

Both refusing to be the first to look away, the twins ignored him. Then they were passing trees. 

 

“Look out!” Rick hollered.

 

Finally they turned forward. They were barreling for a dense set of trees, no room between them to weave through.

 

The twins pulled back on their respective reigns and guided their horses to either side. Both beasts stopped suddenly, sending all four men sailing.

 

Stanley slid across the ground. Rick, still hanging onto him, landed on top of Stanley. He twisted around to examine the other man who seemed dazed.

 

“Sorry for the rough landing. You alright, Rick?”

 

Rick broke out into a wide grin. “G-goddamn, Lee, you’re gonna kill me one day.”

 

Then Rick pulled Stanley close and smashed their lips together with more gusto than grace.

 

Stanford, meanwhile, had basically fallen into Fiddleford’s lap. How they had twisted around like this he couldn’t be sure. His glasses had fallen off, as well, and all he could see was about two inches in front of his face. He turned around to glance up at his partner.

 

“Well that was certainly heart pounding.”

 

“I truly do wonder,” Fiddleford panted, “how in tarnation you haven’t gotten your fool self mangled yet.”

 

“A surprising amount of luck, I imagine. Of course you can’t rule out my natural talent.”

 

Fiddleford let out a wild bark of laughter. Then he reached into a scattering of leaves and held up Stanford’s glasses. Gently he pushed aside the hair that had fallen into Stanford’s face then slid the glasses on.

 

After blinking a few times his eyes readjusted to non-blurred sight. Fiddleford’s face came into focus, and suddenly Stanford realized just how close they were.

 

“Are ya alright, Stanford? Ya look a little red.”

 

“Adrenaline!” he squeaked, scrambling to his feet.

 

He looked around for his brother, rolling his eyes when he saw him entwined with Rick. Judging by the way they were feeling each other up no one was badly injured. Stanford decided to check on Astra instead. She nudged him for affection, seemingly fine.

 

He would have gone to Chestnut next but his brother’s horse had already gone over to Stanley and Rick, nipping at the latter’s hair. She tugged hard, eliciting a yelp from the man.

 

“Good race, Sixer,” Stanley said, rising to his feet.

 

“Are we calling this a draw then? We do do have the way home to go.”

 

“Nope!” Fiddleford hurriedly interjected. “No way are we letting you race back. Rick and I will ride front.”

 

“Yeah, I’m with Fidds. You’re both dangerous.”

 

Before the twins could protest Fiddleford and Rick grabbed the horses’ reigns and saddled up. Stanley and Stanford snorted in unison and rolled their eyes. Nonetheless they hopped up behind the other men, grins on their faces.

 

“Have to admit, that was some impressive riding,” Rick complimented.

 

“I reckon that was the fastest horse I’ve been on.”

 

“Let us take lead again and we’ll show you fast,” Stanley said.

 

As one the men answered, “ _No_.”

 

Rick and Fiddleford took it at a much slower pace. Stanley decided to enjoy the pleasant evening, laying his head against Rick. He faced his brother, noting the way Stanford’s eyes were downcast, looking at the hands he had loosely placed on Fiddleford’s waist. It was getting too dark to see his face properly, but Stanley had no doubts he was blushing.

 

“Hey, Sixer.”

 

His brother turned, startled out of his reverie. Stanley grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. At first Stanford narrowed his eyes, but then Stanley caught a twinkle in them he didn’t like.

 

“Rick, I hope you’re a fan of dancing. The fair usually has a dancing competition for couples, and I assume you two will enter, since Stanley loves _dancing_.”

 

Stanley reached down and, after a brief struggle, pulled off his shoe to throw at Stanford’s head. It smacked him in the chin and fell in his lap.

 

“If you’re going to be childish I’m not giving your shoe back.”

 

Stanley stuck out his tongue.

 

“Did I miss something?” Rick wondered, glancing back towards the twins.

 

“Ah think we miss a lot with these two,” Fiddleford said.

 

Astra and Chestnut suddenly whinnied in distress, rearing back. The men hushed the horses, managing to settle them a bit. They still seemed bothered by something and kept trying to trot off the wrong way as though desperate to avoid something off to the right. The twins gazed that way and instantly understood.

 

“Oh, come on!” Stanley exclaimed. Stanford frowned.

 

Preston and Bud were walking their way. Any hope the twins had that the pair hadn’t spotted them was quickly dashed as their birth names were called out.

 

“Those are the two your pa was planning on—” Fiddleford began.

 

“Yes,” the twins interjected, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence.

 

“W-wanna break the news to them?” Rick said, flashing a grin. Their faces lit up.

 

They urged the horses forward, meeting the pair halfway. Preston and Bud looked at Rick and Fiddleford with a scrutinizing gaze.

 

“Ah, girls, is this family from out of town?” Preston assumed.

 

Wrapping his arms tighter around Rick Stanley happily told them, “Remember when we said we were already going to the fair with someone? These are those someones.”

 

For a moment they looked wonderfully appalled. Then Preston had to ruin it by opening his mouth again.

 

“What are your names, buckaroos?” His tone was more demanding than inquiring, and Stanley didn’t miss the twitch in Rick’s eye.

 

“Probably Nancy and Molly,” Bud snickered.

 

“Have you seen the guy you hand around?” Stanley wondered, jabbing a finger in Preston’s direction. The man scoffed.

 

“I am _refined_.”

 

“Hey Lee, th-that word have a different meaning around here, or is this guy confused?” Rick asked.

 

As the twins burst into laughter, Rick twisted around so he could snake an arm around Stanley’s midsection, winking at men on the ground. They scowled back at him.

 

“I hope there are no hard feelings that we’ve called on these two,” Fiddleford said, voice dripping with faux saccharinity. “After all, it’s ultimately up to them whose advances they take an interest in and whose they spurn.”

 

Stanley had never admired that scrawny engineer more than he did right then. Who knew the guy could be so petty?

 

Preston sniffed disdainfully and declared, “These vagabonds seem hardly like the type you would want to appear in public with.”

 

“They’re a lot of fun, though!” Stanley replied.

 

“Unlike some,” Stanford added.

 

“Well, it’s getting late,” Fiddleford noted before the pair could defend themselves. “We’d best be getting these two home. It was a pleasure meetin’ ya, I’m sure.”

 

As Rick and Fiddleford turned the horses back towards their path Stanley couldn’t help one last jab.

 

“See ya at the fair. Good luck on finding someone else to go with!”

 

“Also, it’s pronounced _vaquero_ , _pendejos_ ,” Rick said before urging the horses to go. Chestnut kicked up her back legs, slinging mud across Preston and Bud’s clothes.

 

The four laughed the rest of the way home.

 

Ma and pa were standing together on the porch when they returned. The woman waved as they led the horses back into the stables. It was hard to tell, but pa didn’t seem too upset the twins weren’t on a separate horse from Rick and Fiddleford. 

 

“I can’t believe how well tonight went,” Stanford said, leading Astra into her stall.

 

“Better than we thought by far,” Stanley agreed.

 

“Wait, did you fellas not have any faith in us?”

 

The brothers looked away from the other men.

 

“Ahem. Well, thank you both for coming. It was quite the evening.”

 

Stanley opened his mouth but suddenly a crack of thunder erupted above them. He glanced up, brow knitted.

 

“Yeesh, is it going to storm again?”

 

Stanford frowned.

 

“We still need to test the motor.”

 

“It’ll just have to wait another night.”

 

“At this rate we’ll never get the portal gun up and running!”

 

“I agree with Sixer,” Rick said, giving Fiddleford a pointed look that told his partner things he didn’t seem to want the twins to know. “We’ve already staid in this town too long.”

 

Fiddleford returned his look with his own stern one, hands on his hips.

 

“What makes you boys think it’s a good idea to bring delicate machinery out into the rain? Now unless there’s a nice dry hideaway somewhere we ain’t testing out nothing.”

 

Rick and Stanford both seemed ready to argue further, but Stanley spoke up first.

 

“Eh, what’s one more night? ‘Sides, we getter get some rest for tomorrow. I don’t know about you three, but I plan on having fun at that fair.”

 

“By fun I assume you mean rubbin’ those boys’ faces in their loss,” Fiddleford guessed. Stanley winked and pulled Rick down for a kiss. Fiddleford just rolled his eyes. “At least someone agrees with me.”

 

“Not to mention you’re missing something important.” Stanley grinned at the confusion he received. “The fair’s gonna be packed, and there’ll be plenty of opportunities for us to slip away. We’ll have a bunch of time to work on the portal gun.”

 

As risky as that could be, it seemed to placate Rick and Stanford. With one last goodbye kiss they saw the men off.

 

Their parents had already gone inside, but ma stepped out as soon as they came towards the back door. A big smile was on her face. 

 

“You need to learn to listen to your mother more often, girls.”

 

“Yes, ma,” the twins chimed together.

 

“So, have you decided what you’re gonna wear tomorrow? I think I know the perfect dresses—”

 

“Goodnight, ma,” Stanley said, stepping past her. Stanford followed, smile on his face.

 

“I think we can handle dressing ourselves.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder. Goodnight, girls.”

 

When they were alone in their room, door firmly shut behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Stanley fell back on the bed while Stanford slid down onto the floor by his feet.

 

For a few minutes the brothers sat in pleasant silence, until Stanley asked, “So, what did it feel like?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Stanley sat up and elaborated, “To realize you’re sweet on Fidds?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

His deep blush betrayed him.

 

“Boy, Sixer, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so flustered.”

 

Stanford only proved his brother’s point as he tried to retaliate but couldn’t find the words. Finally he just crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away.

 

“Hey, don’t take it the wrong way! So someone came and actually sparked your interest. I lose a bet with Carla, but I’m happy for you. Fidds is a swell guy. Not really my taste, but he works for you.”

 

“I merely have an _appreciation_ for Fiddleford. I don’t look at him like…like how you do with Rick.”

 

“How do you mean?” Stanley asked softly, picking up on his twin’s discomfort.

 

Stanford paused a moment, considering his words carefully. Slowly he explained, “I don’t think I could ever _lay_ with Fiddleford—or anyone for that matter. I have no desire for it, and honestly the notion makes me a bit nauseous. Especially the thought of marrying someone like Preston or Bud and having to—” Stanford shuddered.

 

Stanley squeezed his shoulder.

 

“Remember, we don’t gotta worry about that no more, right? Fidds and Rick did a great job tonight. And it’s not like you ever got to sleep with him if you don’t wanna.”

 

Stanford glanced up at him unsure.

 

“Won’t that be expected, though? There are steps to this sort of thing, and the landing is sex.”

 

Stanley shrugged and told him, “I don’t see why it has to. Stanford, if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, end of discussion. And if he tries somethin’ I’ll bust his teeth in.”

 

This managed to pull a smile out of Stanford.

 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Thank you, Stanley.”

 

“Anytime, Sixer.”

 

Stanford got to his feet, as did Stanley. As his twin started to undress he mused, “I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. It’s not as though Fiddleford has any romantic feelings towards me.”

 

“Please, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

 

“How does he look at me?”

 

“With his eyes.” Stanley glanced over at his twin, grinning at Stanford’s dumbfounded expression. “Night, Stanford.”

 

Stanford narrowed his eyes and grabbed a pillow, chucking it at Stanley. 

 

“Night, Lee.”

 

Then he grinned, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, are you all ready for the fair? A lot of things are gonna happen!


	11. I Know I’ll Hear You Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The carnival is here! The twins find out there's another boy in town like them. Then everyone plays some booth games with...interesting results. Oh, and Ma tells the twins something ominous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fidds really gets to shine in this part. Don't worry, Rick has his own moments in the next. I just had to break up the carnival into two chapters because it was getting long and it flows better this way. Lots of things are gonna happen after this.

Stanley was hurriedly fixing Stanford’s hair as Stanford adjusted the belt around Stanley’s waist. They refused to admit how long they had been running around their room trying to find the perfect look. Discarded dresses littered the floor and bed, and their sanity was a mess of jewelry and accessories.

 

Just as they stepped back from each other for a final appraisal there was a knock at the front door. Stanley grabbed his brother’s arm and shot out of their room and down the stairs, passing Ma who was heading towards the door herself. She stepped back with a knowing grin, letting the twins answer it.

 

“Howdy!” they panted in unison.

 

Rick and Fiddleford looked even classier than they had the previous night. Stanley made a not to compliment Carla later.

 

“Ready to go?” Rick asked.

 

“Anywhere with you,” Stanley said without thinking. He quickly grabbed Rick’s wrist and pulled him inside. “Ma! Guess who’s here?”

 

“Two fine gentlemen?”

 

“Nope.” 

 

“Not even close, ma. Your psychic powers must be off today.”

 

“Must be all the rain we’ve gotten.”

 

“Hello, ma’am,” Fiddleford greeted as Rick nodded. At her pointed look he quickly corrected, “I mean, Martha.”

 

Shermie wiggled in her arms. He reached out towards the men saying, “Fih, Fih!”

 

“Aw, hello, little guy.”

 

Fiddleford tickled the babe who giggled happily. Ma rolled her eyes and handed Shermie over.

 

“Here, I need ta finish getting ready, anyway. And apparently ta light a fire under your father.”

 

“Why don’t we go on ahead, Ma?” Stanley suggested hopefully.

 

“Hm. Well, if you two promise not to take advantage of these precious flowers.”

 

“Of course, ma’am, we would never,” Fiddleford assured.

 

“I was talking to the twins. Behave yourselves, girls.”

 

“I promise we’ll behave like ourselves. Thanks, Ma!”

 

The twins hurriedly kissed her goodbye and dragged the men back outside.

 

“Yer ma’s quite the woman,” Fiddleford commented, shifting Shermie in his arms.

 

“Yeah, it’s easy to see who you two take after.”

 

“I’ll assume those are both compliments. Now let’s go.”

 

Rick offered his arm. “May I, little lady?”

 

“You may fuck off,” Stanley returned, walking past him. Rick just grinned and followed.

 

“So wh-what, what is this fair like? Don’t tell me it’s all puritan dancing and coleslaw.”

 

Stanford furrowed his brow.

 

“You make no sense on most occasions Rick, have i ever told you that?”

 

“Don’t worry, there are plenty of games. Ring toss, tests of strength, all the good ones.”

 

“I’m great at games,” Rick said. “Want me to win you a doll, Lee?”

 

Stanley snorted.

 

“I’d make you eat it, Rick.”

 

“I’d rather eat—”

 

“And this conversation’s over!” Stanford declared as Fiddleford covered Shermie’s ears. Rick gave an innocent smile.

 

“I was just going to say ice cream.”

 

“Ish crem!”

 

“See? The kid gets me.”

 

Festivities were already underway when they reached the fair. Stalls with various games and confections were set up all over, and a band was playing a cheerful tune beside a dancing stage that had been erected. It was bustling with happy families and couples, and little children ran merrily about from one attraction to the other.

 

“Ain’t this lovely,” Fiddleford commented.

 

“Quaint,” Rick returned, not quite sounding impressed.

 

Stanley ignored him, scanning the crowd. There on the stage was Susan. She was dancing with a couple of younger kids. Shandra he recognized right away, and Boyish Dan Corduroy; he couldn’t remember the name of the last girl, something with a ’t’. He caught Susan’s eye and waved. In a flash she hopped down and over, dragging her dance partners along.

 

“You’re here!” she exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around Stanley. When she pulled away she gave Rick and Fiddleford a once over. “Don’t you two look nice. Carla really pulled out all her magic this time.”

 

“Th-the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“ _Wink_ ,” Susan giggled, turning back to the twins. “I told her that shirt would look good on Fidds, and was I right or what?”

 

Shandra scoffed, looking Rick and Fiddleford over for herself. She didn’t seem impressed.

 

“Problem, kid?” Rick snapped. She shrugged.

 

“Well, I suppose I can understand the low standards, considering the few available—and even fewer decent men around here.”

 

“Yeesh, Shandra, pleasant as always,” Stanley said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Well, she’s right in part, and we’ve said as much before,” Stanford pointed out, and his twin nodded in agreement. Then Stanford side-eyed Rick. “Besides, she’s not completely wrong.”

 

Rick narrowed his eyes petulantly but went ignored.

 

“Uh, does that include me?” Dan asked worriedly.

 

The third kid put her arm on Dan’s with a giggle. “I’m sure Shandra didn’t mean you.”

 

The other girl scoffed, causing Dan to frown.

 

“Shandra, entertain the boys a minute, we’ll be right back,” Susan said, taking either twin by the arm and leading them away. The other girl followed them.

 

She stopped when they were a good distance away from the others, while also not near any other listening ears. Susan let go of them to pull the girl up beside her, her wide smile an odd juxtaposition with the younger kid’s suddenly nervous expression.

 

“What’s going on here?” Stanley finally asked.

 

“Stanley, Stanford—”

 

“Whoa!” Stanley interjected, his twin stiffening beside him. “I, uh, got no idea who you’re talking about there. Never heard those names in our life, right Sixer?”

 

Susan held up a calming hand and assured, “It’s okay, Tressa knows.”

 

“Um, I was actually thinking I’d prefer the name Tyler, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Aww, that’s a cute name for you! Boys, Tyler here was walking around late one night around the saloon and saw you two apparently jumping out of a window and found out your secret. He came to me and we got to talking and, well, Tyler, these are Stanford and Stanley Pines. I know they don’t look like much, but they’re boys like you.”

 

“Wait, so you…?”

 

Tyler nodded adamantly confident smile on his face now.

 

“I started talking to Susan one day and she said I wasn’t the only one. I could hardly believe it! All this time I thought I was alone, like, like—”

 

“Like a freak,” Stanley supplied.

 

“An anomaly,” Stanford added, not quite looking at anyone.

 

Tyler nodded.

 

“But I’m not— _we’re_ not. Oh, this is so exciting!”

 

Suddenly Tyler’s arms were around both twins, squeezing as tight as he could. Then Susan was joining in and they were trapped.

 

“Oh boy, another hugger. Great.”

 

“This is going on far too long,” Stanford said, catching Stanley’s eyes and silently pleading for him to end it.

 

“Alright, enough of this touchy feely stuff. We’re here to have fun, right? And be extremely petty.”

 

Finally the pair let go. Both were beaming.

 

“Right! Oh, I’m going to dance with Dan the whole night through! I’m so glad I found you two.”

 

“Ah, well, we know how, uh, how weird and hard this is,” Stanley said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “So if ya ever got questions or anything—”

 

“We’re here,” Stanford finished with a small smile of his own.

 

“Thank you so much!”

 

Tyler threw his arms around them again for one last hug before racing back to the others.

 

“Isn’t it just wild finding someone else like you?” Susan wondered. “Makes you wonder how many other folk like you are out there.”

 

They shared a secret look as Susan followed after Tyler. Then they glanced over at the waiting group. It was hard to tell if Rick and Shandra were getting along or butting heads; Stanley secretly feared what they could accomplish together.

 

“The world just keeps expanding,” Stanford mused, adjusting his glasses.

 

Stanley clamped him on the shoulder.

 

“Yup. Let’s go see how far it goes.”

 

They rejoined the others, Stanley snaking an arm around Rick’s waist while Stanford went to Fiddleford’s side. He didn’t miss the other man entwine their fingers together.

 

“Alright, I for one am ready to have some fun,” Stanley said, interrupting whatever conversation they had been having.

 

“Then let’s get out of here.”

 

Stanley smacked Rick’s hat over his eyes.

“Well, I’m certainly eager to check out the games,” Fiddleford said. “I’ll have you know carnival games are my specialty.”

 

“I expect you to win Sixer something good then.”

 

“I reckon I’ll have to win the biggest prize they have.”

 

A blush creeping up his neck Stanford said, “That’s unnecessary, you don’t have to. Really.”

 

“Oh no, no, I’ve been challenged and I don’t intend ta back down. Prepare to get the biggest prize we can find.”

 

With that confident declaration Fiddleford excused himself and pulled Stanford along towards the game stalls. He weakly protested but didn’t try to wrest free. Stanley and Rick readily followed.

 

“Is he actually any good?” Stanley wondered, speaking low so Fiddleford wouldn’t overhear.

 

“Oh yeah. I-it’s pretty impressive.”

 

“Swell.” Stanley paused a moment before adding, “You better win me something, too.”

 

“What? The hell do I look like?”

 

“Like a guy who’s supposed to be courting me.” 

 

“You know, I offered earlier but you just insulted me.”

 

“You weren’t being serious then and we both know it.” Stanley shrugged. “But I get it. Too tall an order.” Rick quirked his eyebrow as Stanley patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry if you’re not man enough, I’m sure Fiddlesticks can win me something, too.”

 

Over his shoulder Fiddleford called out, “Can do, darlin’!”

 

Shermie squirmed around to peer at Rick, gurgling out something that sounded vaguely like, “Darlin’!”

 

Rick scowled but followed Fiddleford around the booths as the latter scanned their options. He was attempting to get Stanford to pick out what prize he wanted. Cheeks red, Stanford kept insisting Fiddleford didn’t need to win him anything. Which of course Fiddleford ignored.

 

Stanley, who had been scanning the place for Carla, interrupted them as his eyes landed on the woman. She was just across the fairgrounds sitting on a tree stump, stetson hat on her head and banjo in her hands. The woman was strumming away and her mouth was moving, though they were too far way to hear what she was singing.

 

“I-is she wearing my scarf?” Rick asked in disbelief. FIddleford looked up and his eyes widened. 

 

“My banjo!”

 

Carla’s eyes landed on the four and she waved exuberantly at them. Fiddleford and Rick instantly marched over, the twins hot on their heels. 

 

“Careful with my baby!” Fiddleford cried, reaching for the instrument. Carla snatched it away before he could grab it, wagging a finger.

 

“Careful now. You wouldn’t want to jostle that baby.”

 

“I’ll jostle you if you don’t take my scarf off,” Rick threatened. All it did was make her giggle.

 

“Hello, Carla,” the twins chimed.

 

“It didn’t take you long at all to steal their things,” Stanford commented.

 

“Don't worry, it means she likes ya.”

 

“ _Borrowed_ , thank you very much. And all it means is I have an eye for pretty things. Hence why I _borrowed_ this hat.”

 

“Used to be my favorite, too,” Stanley sighed.

 

Carla stuck out her tongue and he pushed the brim down over her eyes.

 

“No manners at all.”

 

With a sigh Fiddleford said, “Please just don’t damage my Delilah.”

 

“What kinda girl do you take me for?”

 

“I shouldn’t say those words in front of a child.”

 

Carla let out a dramatic gasp.

 

“You’re all uncouth. Perfect for each other.”

 

“Ain’t that sweet,” Fiddleford replied, smiling now. Carla grinned back.

 

“Alright, weren’t we promised prizes?” Stanley spoke up.

 

“Ah-already told you that’s not happening now, Lee.”

 

“In a rare turn of events, I agree with Rick. You really don’t have to win us anything.”

 

“Nonsense! I thought I saw a stall with squashes that looked like they had faces. Wouldja like one of ‘em?”

 

Stanford’s face scrunched up, unsure if he was joking or not. Fiddleford seemed sincere, however, and Stanford didn’t know what to think—let alone how to respond. He didn’t get the chance to figure it out.

 

“Ah, Leah, Leanne!”

 

“Don’t you girls look downright charming.”

 

“And suddenly there was a sour taste on the wind,” Carla muttered, just loud enough for the four to hear.

 

Stanley turned to the unwelcome pair, pulling Rick around with him. Flashing them a smirk he nestled against Rick’s side.

 

“Oh, didn’t you guys bring a date?”

 

They instantly bristled. It was going to be a good day.

 

“Hmph. I see you’re here with these—” Preston waved his hand, searching for the appropriate word.

 

“ _Cowboys_ ,” Bud supplied, the word coming out like something vile.

 

Rick burped, loud and long. Preston and Bud stared at him in a mixture of shock and disgust.

 

“Sorry to cut this short, fellas,” Fiddleford spoke up, “but we promised our dates here a prize, and it would be awfully ungentlemen-like to keep ‘em waiting.”

 

“Yup, see you _pendejos_ later.”

 

The four started to turn towards the game stalls, but Preston made a dismissive sound that drew Stanley and Rick’s attention back to them.

 

“Of course,” Stanford muttered, not that anyone would have listened had he been any louder.

 

“Got something to say, Northwest?”

 

“Girls, if you desire some cheep booth prize, allow us to win it for you. These vagabonds look like they couldn’t catch more than some disease.”

 

“Please let’s just—” Stanford tried.

 

“Ah-are you really challenging us?” Rick interrupted, eyes narrowing at the pair.

 

“Oh no. Merely making an observation.”

 

“And these girls do deserve men who can prove their worth,” Bud added.

 

Stanford tugged on Fiddleford’s sleeve, pleading, “Drag Rick away and let’s go back to enjoying—”

 

“Now hold on a cotton-picking moment!” Fiddleford exclaimed, eliciting a sigh from Stanford. “Now I agree the twins deserve the best, and we intend ta provide that. And I don’t much care for yer tone, implying we can’t.”

 

Springing up Carla declared, “There’s only one way to settle this. I do believe you boys need to face off in some carnival games. Biggest prize is naturally the winner.”

 

Stanford rubbed his temples as the others readily agreed, even Shermie throwing up his chubby arms excitedly. There was no way to stop this now, though, and he could only go along.

 

They headed to the nearest game booth, where ten milk bottles were stacked in a pyramid. Stanford and Stanley stood to the side as the other four men stepped up to the counter, Fiddleford passing the babe to them. Carla, all eager grins, draped herself over the twins.

 

“Oh, this should be good.”

 

“No way can they lose to those two jokers,” Stanley snickered. Stanford sighed.

 

“I just wanted a calm, simple evening.”

 

His laments fell on uninterested ears. Stanford sighed again.

 

“A round of your finest balls for me and my companions, carny.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Northwest.”

 

As a ball was paced before each of them Bud turned to Fiddleford then Rick saying, “It would be rude of us to go first. Please, after you. That way this man won’t have to restack as much.”

 

Fiddleford _hmph_ ed and took aim. With a steady hand he tossed the ball, striking the pyramid on the bottom row and making them all come crashing down. There was a brief second of stunned silence all around. Then Rick burst into laughter as the booth manager announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a grand prize winner! Which would you like, lucky sir?”

 

“Which would you prefer, dear?” Fiddleford asked.

 

“Oh, um, the owl?”

 

The operator took down a large cloth owl. He handed it to Stanford who admired the toy—and Fiddleford’s skill.

 

“That was quite impressive.”

 

“Twasn’t nothin’, darling.”

 

Bud snorted.

 

“I suppose everyone has a bout of good luck at least once. Just you wait, Leanne, I’ll win you a better one.”

 

With that Bud tossed his ball at the newly erected pyramid. The top three bottles clanged to the ground.

 

Rick, Stan, and Carla all burst into laughter. Bud’s ears went red.

 

“Let me show you how it’s done,” Preston said, nudging Rick aside. “Leah, decide now which prize you want.”

 

He knocked down the topmost bottle.

 

“Pretty sure that ain’t gonna win anything,” Stanley commented.

 

“Besides some wounded pride,” Carla added with a giggle.

 

Rick shoved Preston out of the way and snatched up the last ball. With a cocky grin and burp he leveled it at the pyramid. He missed it completely by several inches.

 

“Wasn’t he bragging just a moment ago?” Stanford asked, leaning towards his twin. Stanley slapped a hand to his face.

 

“Looks like the only one with a prize is Sixer,” Carla announced. “And I’m not just talking ‘bout the owl.”

 

“Now hold up, this was just a warm up round. This Fiddlehorn—”

 

“ _Fiddleford_.”

 

“Just managed to get in a lucky shot.”

 

Fiddleford stepped aside and let the three try again. This time they knocked down four pins between them.

 

“Alright now this is getting embarrassing,” Stanley said.

 

As they made their third attempts Susan came over, just in time to see Bud knock down the top bottle. She whistled.

 

“They sure ain’t too good at this game. That’s a pretty owl, though.”

 

“Oh, thank you. Fiddleford won it.”

 

“Aww. Yay, Fiddlesticks! Mind winning me a cat?”

 

As he nodded in affirmation Preston snorted.

 

“An empty promise! I doubt this cowboy could recreate his lucky strike.”

 

“Well that sure does sound like a challenge. One more for me, sir.”

 

Fiddleford took just a moment’s aim with the new ball before chucking it forward. Once again bottles flew everywhere.

 

“Another winner! Which cat would you like, little lady?”

 

At this point Preston, Bud, and even Rick were fuming. Carla couldn’t stop laughing. Stanley looked miffed.

 

“Is it too late to trade ya, Sixer?”

 

“By far.”

 

“N-not another word, Lee!” Rick called out. “I’ll win you a-ah stupid stuffed animal.”

 

Stanley gave him a disbelieving look which only seemed to fuel Rick’s determination. He snatched the ball from Preston’s had and chucked it with all his might at the pyramid. In an amazing feat, he took out three bottles from the middle, leaving the rest perfectly undisturbed.

 

“Holy moses,” Stanley muttered.

 

“This is the most hilarious moment of my life,” Carla whispered, staring wide eyed at the mostly-intact pyramid. “Thank you.”

 

“Well that was just appalling. Another ball,” Preston ordered, holding out his hand. Rick snatched this one up too and tossed again, ignoring the other man’s protests.

 

He hit it towards the bottom, and while the bottles teetered a bit none actually fell.

 

Preston hummed beside him and Rick cast him a dark look.

 

“Don’t act like you’re doing any better, _pendejo_.”

 

Stanley saw two approaching figures and groaned. As they came over ma waved.

 

“Already playing games? Oh, Leanne, did your beau win you that?” Stanford nodded. “So sweet. Rick, are you about to win my Leah a matching prize?”

 

Rick grumbled something and demanded another ball. This one flew right over the pyramid like a bird above the treetops.

 

“Allow me,” Preston said, once again pushing Rick out of the way.

 

He managed two bottles, at least. Carla was laughing so hard she was out of breath, hanging onto the twins to stay upright. Ma held a hand up to hide her smile.

 

“I see Fiddleford’s the only one any good at this game.”

 

“Yup.” To the others Stanley suggested, “Why don’t we try another booth? I’m getting tired of seeing you all lose.”

 

Pride thoroughly offended, the three ignored him and ordered another round of balls. Together they managed five pins.

 

“This is thoroughly embarrassing,” Stanford said.

 

Pa humphed gruffly, drawing the twins’ attention. He did not look impressed.

 

“Yeesh, we need to end this while Rick’s got any shred of dignity left.”

 

“No worries, he never had any to begin with.”

 

As Stanley narrowed his eyes, which his twin went unaffected by, Carla leaned forward and offered, “Anyone who wins me a stuffed frog gets a free beer at the saloon.”

 

“No need for bribery, dear. One frog coming right up.”

 

Fiddleford plucked the ball right out of Bud’s hand just as he was about to throw it. He took aim, and once again the whole pyramid came down.

 

Carla squealed when the booth operator handed her the stuffed frog, squeezing it tight and rubbing her face against it.

 

“This is so soft. Now only you need one, Lee.”

 

The words had hardly left her mouth when there was another crash and they all turned back to the stall. Fiddleford had knocked the bottles down again.

 

“Well it just wouldn’t be right for you not to have one, too, Lee.”

 

He beamed as Stanley took his prize: a stuffed dog.

 

“Not bad. Guess Fidds wins all around.”

 

“Congratulations Fiddleford!” Stanford beamed.

 

“Wh-what the hell doe that mean? We’re not done yet.”

 

“Far from it!” Preston agreed. “A man does not simply give up. Especially when victory is right in his gra—“

 

Another clang and a roar of cheers. Fiddleford had knocked the pyramid down once again, and this time he pointed to a raccoon, which he brought over to Martha. Shy smile on his face he handed it out to her. 

 

“Just because it’s your children being courted doesn’t mean you can’t get a prize too, ma’am—Martha.”

 

“Aren’t you a sweetheart.” She patted his cheek and glanced over at Stanford. “If we rush things together you can be married by the end of the month.”

 

“Ma!”

 

“Ah, ma’am—Martha, I mean, that’s a bit soon. Not that I would say no! Or, well, maybe I’d be the one asking, so…but still! The month is nearly over!”

 

Stanley grabbed Fiddleford by the shoulder and pulled him away to stand next to his gobsmacked, and very red, twin.

 

“Yer gonna break ‘em both, ma.”

 

“My motherly duty. You’ll understand one day, sweetie.”

 

“Yeah, I really don’t think so.”

 

“I-I’m done with this rigged game,” Rick grumbled.

 

“There are plenty of others here,” Bud agreed as Preston paid the ball manager. His face scrunched up.

 

“Wait, did I pay for your balls?”

 

“Y-you couldn’t afford them, buddy.”

 

Preston cast him an offended look as Rick walked off from the stall.

 

“I think pa and me are gonna walk around a bit. You kids have fun,” ma informed, taking Shermie. “You boys try not to embarrass yourselves too much.”

 

“Fiddleford is fine in that regard,” Stanford quipped. Rick shot him a glare; Stanley rolled his eyes.

 

After ma and pa were gone Carla asked, “So are you three conceding to Fiddsy-fie?”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Fiddleford said while the others began to protest.

 

It seemed the competition wasn’t done, even though Stanley really wished it were. But Rick, Preston, and Bud refused to give up so they all made their way to the darts booth. Rick fared much better, actually managing to win Stanley one of the bigger prizes—Fidds still beat everyone.

 

It was the same way at ring toss. With ease Fiddleford won more prizes for the twins, Carla, and Susan. Rick and Bud managed to get matching finger puppets. Preston only managed to hit the booth manager in the face.

 

When they passed the strength test Stanley grabbed the mallet while the four argued over who’d go first. In one try Stanley sent the iron flying into the bell.

 

No one else had the nerve to try.

 

Preston and Bud were getting extremely irritated. Which Stanley did enjoy; it was even enough to keep him from teasing Rick. For now.

 

“Alright I”m done with these games,” he said. “FIdds and Rick are the winners.”

 

“Mostly Fidds,” Carla added, earning her a dry look from Rick. She winked at him.

 

“I did say how I was good at carnival games. Though I agree, there’s a-plenty else ta do.”

 

“Sounds like it’s dancing time!” Carla happily declared, linking an arm with either twin.

 

There was a chorus of agreements from Susan and Stanley, while Stanford gave a small nod. Rick’s face was blank but he didn’t protest so Stanley took that as acceptance.

 

“I’m up for a good jig, if ya don’t mind my two left feet, darling. I admit I’m better at making the music than dancing to it,” Fiddleford said.

 

As Stanford started to reassure him it made no difference, Preston scoffed.

 

“I can hardly imagine what a vagabond considers music.”

 

This seemed to offend both Fiddleford and Rick. The latter glared the rich boy down saying, “Th-that sounds like a challenge, _pendejo._ Thought you’d have enough of those by now.”

 

“What, plan on giving us a show?” Bud taunted, eliciting a smirk from the other man.

 

Rick glanced over at his partner. FIddleford grinned in return, wordlessly nodding. He turned to Carla.

 

“Be a dear and let me have my Delilah.”

 

Carla gleefully complied. Unslinging the banjo from around her back she asked Rick, “What about you, tall, blue, and lanky?”

 

Rick strode right past them all up to the men playing their instruments by the side of the dancing platform. Everyone else quickly followed.

 

“Take five, chumps. Time for some real music.”

 

All three paused, the middle one standing.

 

“That is very insulting, but I also do not care.”

 

“I kinda do,” said another musician. He went ignored as the first one handed Rick his guitar.

 

“Thanks, Chiu,” Stanley said. “You guys can play again after these two have their little performance.”

 

“I would rather not continue playing boring hay music.”

 

With that Chiu walked off, his companions following. 

 

“See, him I like. Why can’t Gravity Falls have more guys like him?”

 

“Because then we wouldn’t mind being here as much,” Stanley replied. “Well, get to impressing us.”

 

Rick winked and positioned the guitar, Fiddleford coming up beside him and readying his banjo. The others moved back a bit and watched the pair expectantly.

 

“What should we play, Rick?”

 

“‘In the Pines’.”

 

He tossed Stanley another wink, and somehow this one was full of coquetry that made a blush creep up his neck. He pressed the stuffed dog against his face in an attempt to hide it as best he could.

 

Rick started strumming away on the guitar, Fiddleford soon joining in. As the melody formed the twin could clearly sense the ease between them; they must have played together a lot. Curiously both wondered how long the partners had been riding, and working on the portal gun, together.

 

Rick’s voice rung out first, then Fiddleford’s joined, the song a conversation.

 

“ _My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night_?”

 

“ _In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine. I shivered the whole night through_.”

 

“ _My girl, my girl, where will you go_?”

 

“ _I’m going where the cold wind blows. In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine, I’ll shiver the whole night through_.”

 

They were admittedly good. They had their own distinct voice, Fiddleford a little higher and a bit more rustic to counter Rick’s lower, smooth Spanish voice. A trace of accent could be heard, and Stanley wondered if Rick was purposefully making it come out to taunt Preston and Bud. Regardless, it was beautiful.

 

“They ain’t half bad,” Stanley whispered to his twin. Stanford made a small sound of agreement.

 

“Color me surprised,” Carla commented.

 

Susan motioned off to the side where Preston and Bud watched the singing pair with contempt.

 

“They don’t look too pleased.”

 

“Even better.”

 

“ _My husband once was a railroad man, killed a mile and a half from here_.”

 

“ _His head was found in a driver’s wheel, but his body ain’t never been found_.”

 

“ _My girl, my girl, where will you go_?”

 

“ _I’m going where the cold wind blows._ ”

 

Together they sung the last verse.

 

“ _You called me to weep and you called me to moan. You called me to leave my home_.”

 

As their song faded out the twins started clapping, Carla and Susan joining in. Stanley even put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Sharing a grin, Rick and Fiddleford took a sweeping bow.

 

Preston huffed, pretending to examine his fingernails. Undaunted, Rick came over and slung an arm around Stanley. Not breaking eye contact with Preston he pressed a kiss to the side of Stanley’s head.

 

“Did you really enjoy it, sugar?” Fiddleford asked, coming over to Stanford.

 

“I’m no expert on music, but it was certainly, um…” Stanford stared at his hand that Fiddleford had taken in his, leaving him quite flustered. “C-certainly,” he swallowed hard, “lovely.”

 

Ma’s voice called out, and they all turned to see her and pa approaching. In addition to the raccoon Fidds had won her was a stuffed baby duck she proudly showed off.

 

“Look what Filbrick won me.”

 

“Shot some ducks, pa?”

 

“Every last one of them,” he answered ominously.

 

With pride instead of threat ma added, “He didn’t miss a single shot!”

 

Rick tensed up and Fiddleford noticeably gulped. Even Preston and Bud seemed intimidated, which the twins took some satisfaction in.

 

“Girls, why don’t you come with me for a minute and take a stroll.”

 

It wasn’t a request so much as a nicely worded order so the twins passed their stuffed animals off to Rick and Fiddleford. Ma went a ways off towards the end of the fairgrounds where there weren’t many others milling about.

 

“What’s on your mind, ma?”

 

“Is something the matter?”

 

A grave look fell over her face. She took either one of there hands and squeezed.

 

“I need to know how today’s been so far.”

 

“I think it’s going great, ma, no worries.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, I _have_ to worry. I had a vision.”

 

Ma shut her eyes and the twins shared a frown.

 

“What do you mean? What kind of vision?”

 

“It was a terrible vision.” Her eyes shot open. They were glistening. “Listen to me closely, both of you. Tonight is very important. A lot of things are gonna happen—I’m not sure what exactly, but I can tell you there will be a huge decision to make. More than one, and you won’t be the only deciders. You both need to think on what you want and go for it. Tonight’s gonna set in motion one path or another that you’ll have to see through to the end.”

 

It took a second for her words to sink in. After a pause of mulling the warning over Stanley gave a reassuring smile, thought it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Hey, ma, don’t look so glum. Have faith in your kids. We know what we want and we’re gonna fight for it, no matter what. Right Sixer?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Just be safe, sweethearts. It’s not going to be easy.”

 

Stanley’s smile fell as his twin commented, “It never has been.”

 

Ma hugged them close. With a deep breath she pulled back and linked her arms through theirs, starting back for the others.

 

“Well, no reason to keep our men waiting.”

 

There was joy on her face again, a stark contrast to the fear just moments before. The twins tried to match her sudden joviality; their grins were just a bit shaky, however, but it would do for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the earliest scenes I had planned was the booth games and I'm very happy to finally have reached that point. I really wanted to have Fidds shine here. Next the carnival wraps up. After that the angst can finally ramp up :)


	12. Beneath Those Lonely Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the dance competition and the twins having a heart to heart with their respective man there's no chance to work on the portal gun. But that's alright since they have that night, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late but here we are, the ending of the fair! I managed to sneak some Susan/Abuelita (who I named Juana) in here, too. 
> 
> For this chapter all I have to warn about is a bit of sexual innuendo from (unsurprisingly) Rick, a brief line from Stanley that may hint at transphobia he's endured, and some self doubt about his manhood from Stanford.

Bud and Preston had already slunk off when the twins came back, probably to lick their wounds. In their place was the trio Susan had been dancing with. Tyler in particular was gushing over Rick and Fidds’ performance, while even Shandra admitted they weren’t half bad. Better than the men who had resumed the same bland ditty that had been playing earlier.

 

“Well, girls, you have fun,” ma said, gently pushing them towards their respective man. “Filbrick and I are gonna grab a bite to eat. It’s about time for my little man to get some grub, too.”

 

Martha scooped Shermie up, then the three of them disappeared into the crowd. Before the twins could open their mouths Carla tossed an arm around either one.

 

“Dancing time!”

 

There were some adamant agreements, from Susan and Tyler especially. 

 

“Maybe later. I’d prefer a small walk,” Stanford sheepishly spoke up. “The fair has gotten quite loud.”

 

“Yeah, you all have fun without us. We’re just gonna take Rick and Fiddlesticks—”

 

“Oh no you don’t, Lee.” Carla shoved Stanford into Fiddleford’s arms, then latched onto Stanley so he couldn’t get away from her. “Fiddsy can escort Sixer by himself. But you two gotta dance. Have you forgotten the competition?”

 

Stanley started to protest but Rick cut him off, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him close.

 

“No use arguing with her. I-I’ve learned that’s a conversation without reward.”

 

Carla patted his cheek, earning her a scowl. Then she turned back to the other pair and shooed them away.

 

“Git, before I change my mind.”

 

They hurried off towards the end of the fairgrounds. Tyler and Susan whistled as Fiddleford linked their arms together, and both turned beet red.

 

Fiddleford took lead, taking Stanford as far away from all the noise as he could without leaving the fairgrounds. All the sounds and people were still overwhelming, but it did help a little. Stanford just tried to breath evenly; he hadn’t just been looking for an excuse for them all to sneak off—this happened every year at some point. Stanley was the social twin, Stanford was better suited for the forest.

 

Though here was nice, too, Stanford decided as he glanced at his companion. 

 

Fiddleford didn’t speak as they strolled along. He did hum an unfamiliar tune which Stanford focused on instead of the buzzing carnival. It was much more pleasurable than the yells of rambunctious children or the various noise of the games.

 

Stanford let himself drift off into thought as he gazed around. He felt a not unusual pang of envy at all the men freely walking around as themselves. A bit of that envy even extended to Rick and Fiddleford. Desperately he wanted to know what it was like to walk around freely as the man he was in broad daylight, instead of hiding the truth. The portal gun was his beacon of hope.

 

Even if he didn’t exactly make the best man. He certainly made a worse woman.

 

“Everything alright there, Stanford?” 

 

Stanford snapped his attention back on  his companion. Just a little too exuberantly he replied, “Of course!”

 

“Are ya sure, dear? That sigh sounded awfully sad.”

 

“I wasn't aware I had sighed.”

 

Fidds nodded, giving him a worried look over. Stanford bit his lip and glanced away.

 

“Stanford, I know we only met a bit ago, but I’m hear if’n there’s something you need to get off your chest.” Stanford snorted. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

 

“You’re not far off the mark, honestly.” Fiddleford made a small sound of understanding. “Thought it’s not quite that. Well, perhaps it is.” He paused a moment. Fiddleford didn’t interrupt him and the silence urged him to continue. “It’s hard to describe, but… Well, I know I’m not a woman. But at the same time I don’t feel , well, manly enough to be a man.”

 

“How do you mean?” Fiddleford gently prodded when Stanford didn’t continue.

 

“I mean, men are supposed to be a certain way, correct? To think a certain way, to want certain things. People like pa value strength in a man. Men are supposed to have muscles. They should be able to defend themselves and, especially, their families. They’re not supposed to be the ones _being_ protected.

 

“And men are supposed to want… _things_. They want to, er, make their own families, so to speak. To know someone intimately. To, ah, _feel_ …”

 

“Do you mean sex?”

 

Stanford cleared his throat.

 

“Yes. Yes, men are supposed to want sex. Irrefutably. It’s part of manhood, after all. Desires and whatnot.”

 

“And you’re worried you’re not quite man enough?”

 

“Exactly,” Stanford said, voice hardly above a whisper. Louder he added, “I don’t feel all the things a man should feel. I’m not strong, and I have no urge to be. I know I’m weak, and Stanley always has to protect me, which I’m grateful for. And I don’t have any desire to act like any of these other men, drunk all the time or awful to their wives and children. Or the men who just abandon their loving families. Though maybe that’s better than the ones who stay and hurt them. I don’t want to be that type of man, either.”

 

Fiddleford reached over and took Stanford’s hand in his own, squeezing tight. Stanford gazed down at where they were connected now and took a took breath.

 

“And, I don’t feel the sexual desires other men do. Not at all and, quite frankly, I hope I never do.”

 

Stanford bit his lip again, peeling a bit of skin he had bitten loose earlier farther. He didn’t stop even as it stung terribly.

 

“Stanford, You get to decide if you’re ‘man enough’. Not yer pa or society, or even me. Besides, there are so many different types of men. I’m not exactly what you’d consider a manly man, even if I do have a bit of strength from working on the family farm. And I admit I’ve got a bit of a protective streak, but heck Rick’s saved my bacon plenty of times. Or gotten my bacon almost fried. Speaking of Rick, is he the picture of ‘manhood’? Not to be rude, he’s a fine fellow, mostly, but, well, what I’m getting at is that it takes all kinds. What matters is that in yer heart, you know you’re a boy. And, and even if one day you decided that you weren’t a man after all, well, I’d feel no different towards ya, Stanford.”

 

Stanford turned back to his companion, taken aback at the conviction in his voice. 

 

  “I mean it.”

 

Slowly Stanford smiled at the other man. Fiddleford returned it, and for a minute they simply staid like that, hand in hand. Stanford noticed, however, how nervous he started to appear after a moment.

 

“Fiddleford?”

 

He took a deep breath and asked, “Stanford, would it be alright if I kissed you? You don’t have to say yes, of course! I just, well…”

 

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t be opposed if you did.”

 

So, Fiddleford kissed him. 

 

It was brief, and Stanford didn’t quite know how to describe the sensation of their lips meeting. Other than pleasant.

 

“I’m sorry, I just had to ask.”

 

“No need to apologize. That was actually enjoyable.”

 

Fiddleford chuckled and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“Oh, you should,” Stanford hurriedly assured. “If you’d ever like to kiss me again I think I might enjoy it even more the second time.”

 

Cheeks reddening Fiddleford replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

——

 

Stanley smacked Rick’s arm and motioned towards his twin and Fidds. Rick’s grumble quickly morphed into a whistle.

 

“Damn, did, didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

Grinning, Stanley leaned against his partner, careful not to use too much weight and topple the lanky man over. He was proud Stanford had found the nerve. And, heck, he was proud of Fiddlesticks, too.

 

“I won a bet. I-I-I knew Stanford had a thing for him.”

 

“Did you convince Fidds to make a move?”

 

“H-hell yeah! You think he’d have the nerve on his own?”

 

Stanley snorted at the thought. Fidds was about as likely as his brother to make a move without some prodding.

 

“Are you two slacking over here?” Carla demanded.

 

“It’s called a break, you pushy—”

 

Stanley cleared his throat loudly, covering Rick’s insult. Carla still leveled him with a sharp look.

 

“We figure it’s best to save our energy for the competition. After all, we gotta show everyone else up, right?”

 

“This is true. I suppose you can spare a few minutes to—”

 

“Listen up, everybody! Ladies grab yer fellas, it’s time for the dance competition! Prepare to show off your moves!”

 

Stanley sighed as Carla squealed. She eagerly grabbed them both and started for the dance platform, shoving Stanley up first. Before she let go of Rick, however, she pulled him down and stared him straight in the eye.

 

“Now you listen to me, Sanchez. I’m allowing ya to dance with my Stanley, and I expect you to not let him down. Each year we dance with each other and each year we win. Keep up his winning streak, or else.”

 

“This is what you threaten him over? No warning not to break my heart or nothin’ like that?”

 

“Which do you care more about?”

 

“True.”

 

“Will you let go of me now?”

 

Carla did, pushing him up the stairs. Rick stumbled but Stanley swooped in to catch him. He flashed Rick an almost apologetic smile and pulled him into place.

 

“Alright, you young lovebirds and gal pals! Let’s dance!”

 

The music started up and everyone started moving. It began slow, easy, partners walking around each other with only one hand touching. As the beat got faster so did their feet. The couples had all been in sync, but now each was dancing their own jig.

 

Tyler and Boyish Dan were on one side of them, Carla and Susan on the other. Dan was doing his best to keep up with his partner’s exuberant movements but having a hard time of it. Not that Tyler seemed to mind, laughing and encouraging the other boy.

 

Carla and Susan meanwhile had their hands linked and were twirling around, skirts spinning out wide. Judging by their giggles they were having a grand time; Stanley was impressed that Carla was holding back her competitive streak, probably a mixture of Susan only being in this for the fun and the expectation that Stanley would win. Which he fully intended to do.

 

Rick was light on his feet, that was for sure. His body was like water and Stanley grinned as he matched Rick’s pace. They danced unhurried, twisting around each other and using every chance to touch.

 

After a bit, though, Stanley couldn’t help but grab Rick, spinning him around. The other man let out a surprised laugh. He let Stanley take the lead, falling eagerly back into his arms. They danced the rest of the song like that, with Stanley spinning and guiding Rick around the platform. He seemed to have no qualms with this role, if the grin fixed on his face was anything to go by.

 

As the song neared its end Stanley spun Rick out once more, then when he reached the end of Stanley’s arm pulled him back and dipped him for a deep kiss.

 

He was dimly aware of cheering and hooting, but too focused on Rick’s lips against his and the arms the other man was now draping around his neck. Rick’s musk filled his nostrils; the only way he could describe it was playful and adventurous yet scientific, even as he knew that didn’t make much sense. Either way, it was as tantalizing as the rest of Rick.

 

“You two sure can hold your breath for a long time,” Susan commented in awe.

 

“Susie, they’re breathing through their noses.”

 

“Oh! That makes sense.”

 

Rick pulled his head back, grinning upside down at the girls. “Y-you kidding me? This guy left me breathless!”

 

Stanley wondered if he could blame all the dancing on his reddened cheeks.

 

Someone clapped him on the back and Stanley turned; it was Sheriff Powers, and behind him were the other judges. He nodded at the pair.

 

“Congratulations, Miss Pines, you and your partner are this year’s winners.”

 

“Thanks, sheriff. Heh, knew you had it in ya, Rick.”

 

Stanley glanced back at his partner and realized he was still dipping him. He quickly helped Rick stand upright. It wasn’t lost on him how Rick stood closer to his side and a little behind, as though trying to shrink away from the sheriff.

 

Sheriff Powers handed Stanley two horseshoes melted together: the trophy.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, once again we have our winners—Leah Pines and her partner!”

 

“Rick Sanchez,” Stanley supplied as the crowd cheered.

 

Sheriff Powers hummed, eyeing Rick in an inquisitive manner. The other man matched his gaze with a defiant one of his own. Starting to get nervous for a reason he couldn’t explain Stanley inched forward just a bit as if to shield him from the eye of the law.

 

“I’ll have your names engraved on the trophy. If you don’t find me again before returning home this evening I’ll have my deputy run it over.”

 

“Thanks, Sheriff.” Stanley handed the trophy back and trapped Rick around the waist. “Let’s go.”

 

He winked at Carla and Susan, and the girls winked back as he zoomed past.

 

When they were at the edge of the fairgrounds, away from most other carnival goers, Stanley slowed and linked their arms. He glanced up at Rick who didn’t seem particularly perturbed at being dragged off. Like Stanley figured he might, Rick seemed more at ease now that there was distance between them and the sheriff.

 

They walked in amiable silence for a while. Stanley keep stealing glances at his partner. A smile rested on his face and he seemed lost in thought. Rick was beautiful like that. He had been beautiful swinging around the dance floor, too. Hell, Rick was just beautiful.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Snapped out of his reverie, Rick looked down at him. Proudly he replied, “It wasn’t hard to dance circle around those kids and old busybodies.”

 

“Nah, not for dancing—but yeah you were something else up there.”

 

Stanley fell silent, and Rick quirked his eyebrow.

 

“Wh-what’s on your mind, Lee?”

 

Stanley looked forward, watching some of the townsfolk still milling about playing games or strolling around like they were. The sun was lowering in the sky and not too much daylight was left. The crowd was thinning, and soon it would be night. The carnival would be over.

 

“Lee?”

 

“Thanks for seeing me like a man.” Rick didn’t say anything anything, just looked expectantly at him, and Stanley hurriedly continued before he lost his nerve. “I’ve just never really had that, y’know? I mean, yeah, Sixer and the girls, but I’ve never, ah, been with someone who saw me for who I really am. I mean, Carla yeah. She’s seen my body, all of it, and still saw a guy. All my curves, my chest, my— _you know_ … None of that’s ever mattered to her. When we slept together she knew she was sleeping with a man. None of the guys I’ve ever been with I could exactly tell. I mean, one I did. It…it didn’t go how I was hoping. But with you it’s different. Heh, I guess it helps that you’re the same way. Still though, it means a lot. Especially ‘cause you let me be a man. In the little things, I mean. Big things, too. I don’t really know what I’m saying. Just…thanks, Rick.”

 

“Lee?” Rick said softly. Stanley looked up. “You’re a-a-ah sap.”

 

Stanley yanked the brim of Rick’s hat over his eyes.

 

“What, and now you can’t take a joke?” Rick teased with a laugh.

 

“Of course I can. How else could I put up with you?”

 

Rick lifted his hat and grinned at Stanley. Stanley returned the grin then slapped the hat out of his hand. Both burst into laughter.

 

“Well aren’t you two having a good time, by the looks of it.”

 

Rick and Stanley turned. Stanford was shaking his head fondly while Fiddleford smiled at them.

 

“Heh, we weren’t the only ones enjoying ourselves.”

 

“How was your little stroll?” Rick asked suggestively, picking up and righting his hat.

 

The other men turned an impressive shade of red in an instant. They both started talking at once, stumbling over reach other’s and their own words. Rick and Stanley shared a look and again burst into laughter, making the other pair clamp their mouths shut and blush all the harder.

 

“Aren’t they cute together, Rick?”

 

“Precious.”

 

Stanford rolled his eyes as Fiddleford huffed.

 

“Yes, well, no reason to act so childish.” In tandem they blew raspberries at him.

 

“Ignore them, darling. We have more important things to discuss.”

 

“Like your wedding?” Stanley teased.

 

“Like the portal gun,” Stanford snapped.

 

Rick and Stanley sobered.

 

“That’s right, we never did get the chance to work on it. Almost like a couple of idiots were too busy trying ta show off.”

 

“With mixed results,” Stanford added.

 

Rick grumbled something incomprehensible; Fiddleford had the decency to look sheepish, at least.

 

“Well, what matters now is that it’s too late to sneak off. Pretty sure we’d be noticed.”

 

“We’ll just have to meet up tonight,” Stanford said.

 

“Unless our champions are too tuckered out,” Fiddleford commented with a  grin.

 

Slinging an arm around Stanley Rick assured, “Oh trust me, we can go for hours.”

 

“Why are you like this?” Stanford groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

They walked around the dying carnival a little longer, the twins linking their arms with their respective man. A pleasant lull had settled over the fairgrounds and the tranquility was contagious.

 

They ran into Tyler, Dan, and Shandra who were on their way out, and the former captured the twins in a tight embrace. Stanley assured him that if he ever needed anything they were there. He wasn’t sure for how much longer, but if they could do anything for the kid he wouldn’t hesitate. No reason for anyone else to be as lost as Stanley and Stanford had been years ago.

 

After that they found Carla at the dance platform strumming a little tune on Delilah. Susan was dancing with another girl, Juana Ramirez. Both were laughing gayly as they spun each other around, and Stanley saw stars in their eyes.

 

“Our little Susie Q is growing up,” Stanley mused, siding up next to Carla.

 

Without missing a chord she nodded, happy little smile on her face.

 

“Oh, she’s got an inclination towards ladies?” Fiddleford asked.

 

“She has an inclination towards anyone pretty,” Carla corrected. “When she was a kid she was sweet on Stanley. Used to follow him around everywhere. It was adorable.”

 

“She just liked my jokes.”

 

“A very rare thing indeed,” Stanford deadpanned. Stanley flipped him off.

 

“Girls!”

 

The twins turned. Ma and Filbrick came over, sleeping baby in her arms. While she was smiling the twins noticed the sheen of worry still clouding her face, and the way she carefully looked between them and their men.

 

“Hey ma, hey pa.”

 

“Is it time to head home now?”

 

“We are. Though I’m sure yer father will allow your young gentlemen to escort you home in a bit.”

 

He grunted and the twins beamed.

 

“Thanks, pa!” they said in unison.

 

“We’ll see them home safely, Martha, no worries.”

 

Ma chuckled to herself before leaning in and, giving both twins a kiss, softly saying, “Remember what I told you.”

 

They nodded as she pulled away, for all appearances a giddy mother. She winked at Rick and Fiddleford, tossed a goodbye towards the girls, then led Filbrick away.

 

Done dancing, Susan and Juanita came over to sit at the edge of the platform, feet dangling over the side. They were panting and smiling, and sitting awfully close. Stanley gave them a knowing grin, causing Susan to blush and look away.

 

“How ya doing, Juanita?”

 

“You two sure were dancing yer feet off,” Fiddleford commented. Susan giggled shyly.

 

“ _Muy bien_ —ah, good. And yes. Susan is a fun dance partner.”

 

“Oh you.”

 

For a bit longer they hung around with the girls as the rest of the patrons dispersed around them. Soon it was just them and a few people taking down their booths.

 

“Golly, I better get home soon,” Susan said.

 

“I will walk with you,” Juanita offered, and Susan blushed.

 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Stanley teased as the pair started off.

 

“ _Lee_.”

 

“That leaves us with plenty of options,” Juanita tossed back, and the look on Susan’s face was priceless.

 

“We’d better get you both home, too,” Fiddleford commented. “Carla, be a dear and put Delilah right back where ya found her.”

 

“Aye aye, captain Fiddlefool.”

 

He gave her a dry look.

 

After the twins gave their own goodbyes they headed towards home. Again they all fell into a pleasant silence. Fiddleford entwined his and Stanford’s fingers; Rick wrapped an arm around Stanley’s waist. Neither fought the affection.

 

“This was fun,” Stanley said as their home appeared far too soon for his liking.

 

“Thank you again for the owl.”

 

“It was my pleasure, darling.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for showing up those jerks,” Stanley agreed.

 

“And Rick.”

 

“Fuck you, Sixer.”

 

“Let’s not ruin this perfect evening, now,” Fiddleford chastised, though there were hints of smugness peppering his words.

 

“Yeah, let’s focus on the good. So ya couldn’t win me a decent prize—” Rick scowled; it looked suspiciously like a pout. “You sure know how to dance.”

 

Stanley nudged his partner who begrudgingly grinned back.

 

“And I can’t forget yours and Fidds fantastic performance.”

 

“You two do play well together,” Stanford complimented.

 

“Y-years of having nothing to do but sing and try not to smash our various prototypes.”

 

Finally they reached the front porch, the quartet falling silent once more. This time reluctance hung in the air. They milled about awkwardly, no one wanting to say goodbye yet even if it would be just for a few hours. Ultimately it was Rick who broke it.

 

“W-well, you better go in or else why did we even bring you home? It would have been easier to just kidnap you.”

 

“You’re a real romantic, Rick.”

 

Before he could defend himself Stanley pulled him down for a kiss.

 

Fiddleford chuckled, and Stanford stole a glance at him. Steeling his nerves, he leaned up and pecked the other man quickly on the cheek.

 

Shocked Fiddleford turned to him. Stanford started to babble, unaware of what he was even saying. Fiddleford just smiled and brought the hand still joined with his up to his mouth, gently brushing his lips against Stanford’s knuckles. The inane stream of words stopped.

 

“We’ll see you boys soon. Don’t go missing us too much.”

 

“I—” Stanford’s voice cracked. “I’ll try not to.”

 

“Don’t make us wait too long, though,” Stanley said. “Seeing that motor work’s gonna make this night as good as today was.”

 

“Just don’t fall asleep on us.”

 

“Yeah yeah, get out of here.” Stanley slapped Rick playfully on the ass, getting a wink in return.

 

The twins watched them disappear down the road. A few minutes later they forced themselves to go inside before pa came looking for them.

 

——

 

A pebble hit their window. Then another while the twins glanced at each other questioningly. They went over and saw a figure in the shadows. The moon was on the other side of the house, but the bright stars and lamp she carried were enough to reveal Carla.

 

Stanley opened the window then Stanford let down a rope. In a moment she had hoisted herself into the room.

 

“What are you doing here?” Stanley whispered.

 

“What’s the matter, got somewhere to be?” Carla teased. “Don’t worry, your boys are still in their room. I thought they had left, but they must have forgotten something because I heard them rushing about in there.”

 

The twins shared a look, knowing the same thought was running through both their minds: they better not have lost the motor.

 

“Enough about Rickie and Fiddsy, let’s talk about you.”

 

“Us?”

 

“ _You_ ,” she corrected, vigorously grabbing Stanford’s hands. “What was it like?”

 

“The fair? Pleasant enough.”

 

“Don’t play stupid with me, it doesn’t suit you. What was it like to kiss Fidds?”

 

It was impressive how quickly Stanford reddened. He glanced at Stanley for help but his brother simply shrugged.

 

“I don’t know what to tell you. Our lips touched. It was surprisingly soft, a little moist, not altogether an awful experience.”

 

Carla rolled her eyes.

 

“I mean _emotionally_. Ya gotta give us more than that, Stanford.”

 

With a defeated sigh Stanford adjusted his glasses and told them, “It felt…nice. Warm. Kissing is quite pleasant, if a bit oversold. I can see why you both have done it so much with so many different people. Of course, I can’t imagine kissing anyone other than Fiddleford.”

 

Carla howled with laughter and had to clamp a hand over her mouth.

 

“Wow, Sixer, what a way to word that.”

 

“I swear I didn’t mean it despairingly. It’s just a matter of fact you’ve had your lips on numerous people.”

 

“Was that any better?” Stanley wondered.

 

“Nope.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with your numerous escapades as long as you’re enjoying yourselves. That’s simply…not for me.”

 

“Except you don’t mind kissing Fiddleford,” Carla pointed out with a wide grin.

 

“Ah, well, ahem. No, I suppose not. But nothing more than that.”

 

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself,” Carla told him, and the smile on her face now was full of understanding.

 

“Alright, enough of this mushy stuff,” Stanley spoke up.

 

“Right, you gotta go meet your men for some more _mushy stuff_.” Carla winked and slung her legs out the window. “Don’t stay out too late now. That would be unseemly.”

 

As soon as she was gone the twins finished getting ready. Maybe they had been a bit riskier than advised lately, keeping extra trousers and shirts in the house. They had repeatedly staid out so late with Rick and Fidds that there wouldn’t have been time to sneak back into the saloon then home, or even time to change in the woods. If pa ever decided to poke around in their room they were dead. That was the furthest thing from there minds right then, though.

 

The woods were quiet. There was the occasional howl or screech, but nothing unsettling. So the brothers settled in to wait.

 

And wait.

 

“What in hell is keeping them?” Stanley groused, snapping a twig. He picked up another one and twirled it between his palms.

 

Stanford furrowed his brow at the sky. Night was almost over. They’d have to head home soon before the sun came back up. Meaning that even if the other men sowed up right that second there’d be no time to test the motor.

 

The decided to leave, Stanley promising to give both Rick and Fidds an earful in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could be keeping those two? Guess we'll just have to wait and see :D


	13. Lay Your Head Close to the River and Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins find out why Rick and Fidds didn't show up last night, and then they get some surprise news from Filbrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're all ready to dig right in but really quick, and this is important, this chapter has some flat out child abuse. That is, Filbrick physically assaulting one of the twins. It doesn't happen exactly on screen, but we see the aftermath. So be prepared for that. Oh and also there's a panic attack.

Stanley tapped restlessly on the countertop. His twin was doodling away on the barrel next to him. The shop had been slow so far, but pa was out and they were stuck watching it.

 

Groaning, Stanley leaned back on his stool until two legs were off the ground and his head was bumped up agains the wall. Stanford spared him a glance, though he didn’t stop sketching.

 

“I’m at my limit, Sixer.”

 

“You can’t stand being away from Rick for so long?”

 

“Don’t make me out to be a dime novel dame. I mean I’m exhausted. Of this.” He motioned around the store. “Aren’t you?”

 

Stanford shut his journal. Adjusting his glasses he agreed, “It does wear you down, no matter what. But we’re so close to finishing that portal gun, I can feel it.”

 

“Yeah, if those two don’t flake on us again.”

 

“Yes, I am still peeved about that myself.”

 

“The sooner we get out of Gravity Falls, and away from—”

 

The front door jingled and Stanley slammed his stool back down as Stanford hid his journal behind the counter. They breathed a sigh of relief: it was only ma.

 

“Hey, lady,” Stanley greeted.

 

She gave them a weak smile.

 

“Is something wrong, ma?”

 

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, coming over.

 

Ma put her elbows on the counter and laid her chin in her palms. She looked awful, bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there that morning and several unkempt strands of hair falling over her face. The twins glanced at each other.

 

“Did you have a fight with pa or something?”

 

Ma shook her head.

 

“Another vision. Worse than last time.”

 

Both twins leaned in.

 

“What did you see?”

 

“Bits and pieces that left a foreboding taste in my mouth.”

 

“Anything more tangible than that, ma?”

 

“You know it doesn’t work like that, girls. I don’t hear any wise words from spirits. I can just feel the world moving a certain way, down a certain path. It’s always clouded, like I’m trying ta see something through the densest fog—but I can only ever make out vague things. And the path your world’s on now, dears, I can’t see anything but sure can sense something big blocking it. Be careful, and look after each other.”

 

“Yes, ma,” they chimed.

 

“Of course we will,” Stanford assured.

 

“Always.”

 

Ma smiled and patted their cheeks.

 

“Now chin up, sweethearts, or else how can you show your men how to have fun?”

 

She winked and left the shop, an airy chuckle following her out.

 

“Yeesh.”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

 

“Yeah. Ma said something about multiple paths yesterday, right? Or something like that.” Stanley flashed him a confident grin. “We’re on the good one.”

 

After a moment Stanford returned the grin.

 

——

 

When Filbrick finally came back he hardly glanced their way. He seemed to have something on his mind but the twins didn’t dare ask. Instead they waited for him to send them out with deliveries.

 

“After that you can go home. You’d better be there when I close up—I’ve got some important news.”

 

With twin _yes sirs_ they gathered up the needed goods and rushed out of there. Thankfully there were only a few orders so they delivered everything in a heartbeat, leaving plenty of time to go track down their men. They hadn’t spotted the pair anywhere around town so they decided to head for the saloon.

 

Carla wasn’t in her room when the twins climbed up, unsurprisingly. Since they were only planning on popping in on Rick and Fidds there was no reason to change. Stanley poked his head out the door and, after giving the all clear, they snuck over to the men’s room.

 

“Hope you’re decent in here,” Stanley teased as they let themselves in.

 

“Clothed or otherwise, Rick is never decent.”

 

They didn’t get any sort of reply; the room was empty. Not just of the men, but of their things. Besides the tussled sheets and opened window there were no signs of them left.

 

“Stanley?”

 

“This…this isn’t what it looks like. It _can’t_ be.”

 

Stanford’s glasses had slipped down his face and he pushed them back up, worrying his bottom lip.

 

“Carla probably just had to move them to another room, right? Yeah.” Stanley nodded to himself. “What else could it be?”

 

Stanford made a small noncommittal sound. They staid staring at the bare room, unsure of how much time passed before the door creaked open behind them.

 

They whipped around hopefully only for their faces to instantly fall.

 

“I’m so sorry, I wanted to find you two and tell you,” Carla apologized. “You shouldn’t have found out this way.”

 

“Carla, what’s going on here?”

 

She bit her lip and glanced at the floor as though it held all the secrets. Stanley repeated her name.

 

“I came in here this morning to check up on them like usual—you know, to see how their night with you had been. But this is all I found.”

 

Carla gave them an apologetic look. She seemed like she was about to say more but just shut her mouth instead.

 

Stanley went over to the first bed and sat heavily on the edge. Stanford followed him, twiddling his fingers anxiously.

 

“If you two need anything just find me. I’ve gotta get back to work.”

 

They didn’t reply and she silently slunk out.

 

“I can’t believe they’d just leave like this,” Stanford said, voice cracking. “No warning or promise to meet up later. No taking us with them.”

 

“Sixer, if we ever see those bastards again I’m going to kill them.”

 

——

 

Eventually they went home, maybe after an hour of just sitting around the empty room. They’d been prodded by Carla to get out of there, go anywhere else, insisting it wouldn’t do either of them any good to dwell. Yet dwell they did.

 

Both the living room and kitchen were empty. They looked around for ma and Shermie, finding them in her bedroom. The curtains were drawn and she was lying on her bed with an arm draped over her eyes; her other arm was cradling Shermie who was sound asleep on her chest.

 

The twins tiptoed over and Stanley nudged her. She let out a pained sound and raised her arm just enough to glance at them.

 

“Oh, sweeties, welcome home.”

 

“Uh, hey ma.”

 

“Are you alright? Is it your head pains again?”

 

She made a little sound of agreement.

 

The twins shared a look, silently agreeing not to bother her with their troubles. They could tell ma about Rick and Fidds when she was feeling better.

 

“We’ll get started on dinner, ma.”

 

“Rest up and let us know if you need anything.”

 

“Such good children I have,” ma mumbled, already drifting back to sleep.

 

They quietly closed the door behind them and went back down to the kitchen. When ma got pain like this she was usually dead to the world, and very little could get her alert. She had told them before that it always came from powerful visions, and the twins couldn’t help wondering what she’d seen this time.

 

“She’s been having them more frequently as of late,” Stanford noted.

 

“Guess there was a lot to see.” Stanley snorted. “Wish we had seen it.”

 

——

 

Dinner was nearly ready when pa came home. He called out for them, startling the twins. They turned to each other and remembered what he’d said earlier: he had something to tell them.

 

He was in the living room and the twins stopped in the doorway. It was hard to place the expression on his face. He looked almost _pleased_.

 

“Hey, pa, dinner’s about ready, and ma’s got another of her bad headaches.”

 

He didn’t seem to hear, or care.

 

“Leah, Leanne, go upstairs and make yourselves presentable. You have a date.”

 

The twins looked at each other. Before they could ask pa what he meant the man continued.

 

“Bud and Preston will pick you up in an hour. I expect you to be ready.”

 

“Wait, what are you talking about, pa?”

 

“Your betrothal is back on.”

 

As one the twins exclaimed, “ _What_?”

 

Filbrick’s face fell into a familiar scowl.

 

“You’re going to be useful to this family and marry Bud and Preston.”

 

“But pa! What about Rick and Fidds? You said—”

 

“ _I’m saying now_ that you’re marrying Bud and Preston.”

 

“But—”

 

“ _Leah_.” Stanley froze, far too familiar with that dangerous tone. “Do you even know where those good for nothings are?” The twins didn’t say anything. Filbrick snorted. “Bud and Preston informed me that they had seen them riding off early this morning. I went to go check and sure enough they’ve left town.”

 

The twins looked away, neither able to meet their father’s judging gaze.

 

“I never should have put the marriage on hold so you could go gallivanting around with those two ruffians.”

 

Stanley clenched his fists and shot Filbrick a sharp glare. Stanford winced as his twin challenged their father; he knew how a confrontation like this would end and he could only hope it didn’t escalate. He knew his brother well, though, and their father’s unrelenting rage.

 

“Rick and Fidds may be low down dirty liars who just up and left, but they’re leagues better than those two snobbish bastards! I meant what I said before—ain’t no way Sixer an’ me are marrying them, and ain’t no way you can make us.”

 

Filbrick glowered at Stanley. During that declaration Stanley had inched further in front of Stanford, blocking him from their father.

 

“Leah Martha Pines, don’t get me mad.”

 

“Oh, I’m the one who’s mad, Filbrick!”

 

“Lee, please,” Stanford whispered, even as he knew it was a lost a cause.

 

As Stanley glared their father down he reached back and squeezed Stanford’s hand—the silent sign they’d had since childhood. Stanford hesitated, afraid to leave him alone with Filbrick. Sensing his reluctance, Stanley cursed at their father again, and Stanford knew there was no hope of diffusing this situation now.

 

With a pit of guilt building in his stomach, Stanford snuck upstairs.

 

Even with their bedroom door firmly shut Stanford could make out their yelling. He desperately wished he could be like ma—asleep and oblivious.

 

It was worse when the yelling stopped.

 

It was replaced with a crash like Filbrick had thrown Stanley into something. Then there was a brief second of silence where it was easy to picture what was happening before the house was filled with the all too familiar sound of Filbrick’s belt against Stanley’s back.

 

Stanford slid to the ground, back pressed agains the door. He put his head between his knees and his arms over his head. And he waited.

 

There was a tightness in his chest, and soon Stanford was hyperventilating. He clenched his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his hair, concentrating on the sensation. Murmuring to mask the terrible sounds downstairs, he repeated the equations they’d been using for the portal gun.

 

Eventually his breathing evened out. Stanford gulped around the lump in his throat. After a moment he felt much more composed.

 

There was a soft rap at the door, making Stanford jump up. He quickly opened it for Stanley who shuffled in. He looked ready to collapse.

 

“Hey, Sixer.”

 

“Lee…”

 

“No time to waste, we’ve got a date to go on,” Stanley said, going over to their bed and undoing the back of his dress.

 

While he laid down on his stomach Stanford hurried to the corner of their room and lifted a loose board. He took out the last of their healing salve, another recipe they had gotten from that witch. There was only maybe a quarter of the jar left.

 

“We’ll have to make more when we get the chance. Some of the ingredients are just so difficult to acquire.”

 

Stanley hummed as his twin came over and sat down beside him. “Don’t use all of it. Never know when we may need it.”

 

Stanford frowned. By the looks of it they needed it now.

 

Stanley’s back was covered in cuts and a couple of lacerations. There were a few spots of discoloration already, and his back radiated heat. If he looked closely enough Stanford was sure he could make out every strike Filbrick had landed.

 

“That seems foolish.”

 

“Eh, I’ve had worse and you know it. Save that stuff for a real emergency.”

 

Though it didn’t set well with him, Stanford obeyed.

 

Stanley shivered when the lotion touched his skin. He laughed humorlessly, blaming the coldness of the salve. Stanford bit his lip.

 

There was a large red spot on his side that was already starting to swell, and Stanford knew it would bruise. He took extra care to not aggravate it. Not that nay part of Stanley’s back was clear. Filbrick had really done a number on him.

 

Stanford tried to spread the minuscule bit of cream across his wounds, but he knew it wasn’t nearly enough to fully heal him. Most of the little cuts closed up right away, at least, and some of the swelling lessened. Stanford knew it would numb his back enough to move around without too many issues, but it wouldn’t be the most pleasant still. Really he should rest. He wouldn’t get that chance, however.

 

“Stanford, I can feel you fretting.”

 

“If I didn’t worry about you, you wouldn’t worry about yourself.”

 

“Eh, true.” Stanley fell silent for a minute. Then suddenly he said, “Let’s run away.”

 

Startled, Stanford’s hands paused. “Jus the two of us? Now?”

 

“Ma mentioned a blocked path, right? And that there were choices to make. Well everyone else keeps making some so I think it’s our turn. Let’s leave tonight, never come back.”

 

Stanford mulled this over for a moment as he continued massaging in the balm. Finally he nodded to himself.

 

“Alright. Do you have a plan?”

 

“Yeah, but we’ll have to stick it out with those two jackrabbits for a little while.”

 

“I’d rather deal with them for a few hours than a lifetime.”

 

Stanley flashed his twin an agreeing smirk.

 

They quickly got ready for their _date_ , making sure they looked adequate enough to not gain anymore of Filbrick’s ire. Then they gathered what they were going to take with them. There wasn’t much. Just their monster studying equipment, Stanford’s journal filled with supernatural knowledge they’d gained from the forest, the remaining salve, clothes, and some of their jewelry since they didn’t have much money of their own.

 

Stanford climbed out their window, careful not to make any sound that might alert Filbrick. He raced to the stables, hiding the bags with their horses who looked at him curiously. He gave each a pat, and told them to be ready.

 

Back in their room he saw Stanley writing something on a piece of paper.

 

“Should have let you do this,” he admitted sheepishly. “Pretty sure I misspelled everything. But ma will get the message anyway.”

 

Stanford read it over:

 

_Dear Ma, sorry but we gotta scram. Gravity Falls aint for us, never has been. It may be hard to understand but we kno we’re really boys, even if we are sweet on Rick and Fidds. We can’t stay here. Well try and send you a message sometime to let you know we’re alright. Stay safe._

 

_Love you always,_ —

 

Below, Stanley had started to write his birth name only to scratch it out and replace it with his real name. Stanford added his.

 

As they shared a grin there was a knock on the front door.

 

“Well, let’s go greet our dates.”

 

Filbrick’s gaze was heavy as he appraised them. The twins ignored him, focusing on Bud and Preston.

 

Honestly they were dressed to the nines, but there was no fashion in existence that could make their personalities look good.

 

“Ah, Leah, Leanne, how lovely of you to join us this evening,” Preston said.

 

“We have plenty to discuss,” Bud agreed. “Are you ladies ready?”

 

“Yeah yeah, let’s go,” Stanley hurried, walking right past the other men’s offered arms.

 

The two followed them out the door, and smugness radiated from them so strongly it was all Stanley could do to not knock them to the ground. Stanford squeezed his hand; they’d only have to endure for a little bit.

 

“I have to say, dressing alike, isn’t that quaint?”

 

“It’s precious of you gals. Should we get you matching wedding gowns?”

 

Stanford squeezed harder, unsure if he was trying to control Stanley or himself now.

 

They had come in a carriage which the twins climbed into. The other pair eagerly did the same, Preston giving their driver the order to go. It was a concord coach, and the twins sat on one side, gazing out either window, well aware of the eyes trained on them triumphantly.

 

“You seem pleased with yourselves,” Stanley noted snidely.

 

“We’re simply relived those vagabonds are far from you two. After all, it wouldn’t do for our future wives to be associating with good for nothing hombres,” Preston replied, the Spanish awkward and wrong on his tongue.

 

Even after being abandoned by them, the twins couldn’t stand these two of all people speaking despairingly of Rick and Fiddleford. Stanley was ready to snap at them, but Stanford beat him to it.

 

“Ah yes, it would be a shame to _associate_ ourselves with people who only care about their own well beings. For instance, men who don’t consult the ones they wish to marry to see if they feel the same.”

 

That shut the pair up for the rest of the ride. Stanley snuck his twin a proud grin.

 

When they arrived at their destination the twins gratefully climbed down from the buggy. They had stopped at the Northwest manor. It was an excessively large mansion, and they knew the secret history of this place. The creatures of the forest didn’t like the Northwest family, and they had very good reasons.

 

“Gorgeous, isn’t it,” Preston said in Stanley’s ear. He shivered.

 

“Are you girls cold? We’d be more than happy to warm you up.”

 

Stanford dodged the arm Bud tried to wrap around him. He gave Stanley a desperate look.

 

“Well what are you boys waiting for? Give us the tour.”

 

“Right you are! Jeeves, open the door for our young ladies here.”

 

“Why not start with the outside? It’s a beautiful night, after all, and more private.” Stanley threw him a wink.

 

They eagerly led the way through the grounds.

 

Everything was well tended to in this large garden. The sun was hanging low now and bathed the greenery in a radiant light. The twins walked through an intricately carved archway, pretending to admire it all while Preston and Bud droned on.

 

“You know,” Bud commented, reaching out to stroke a rose, “I think there’s not much that can rival the beauty of these flowers, and here we are with those exceptions.”

 

Stanley and Stanford looked at each other in disgust.

 

While the other men were distracted the twins snuck behind a gazebo. Stanford slumped against the wooden structure and Stanley followed suit.

 

“Please tell me it’s almost time.”

 

“If we don’t leave soon I”m going to shove a handful of grass in their mouths to shut them up.”

 

Preston called out for them, eliciting twin groans. Suddenly Stanley grinned and took off Stanford’s glasses, tucking them away in his dress.

 

Together they stepped out from behind the gazebo, hands behind their backs.

 

“Ah, there you girls are. We should head inside for dinner. Perhaps after we can continue our little stroll under moonlight. I’m sure we can put something on you to make you more dazzling.”

 

“Alright,” said Stanley imitating Stanford’s voice, “but first let’s play a game.”

 

“Guess who’s who,” said Stanford imitating Stanley’s voice.

 

“Don’t be silly girls, obviously we can tell you apart.”

 

Stanley snorted and in his own voice told his twin, “I highly doubt that. Wanna bet, Sixer?”

 

“That’s a fool’s bet,” Stanford returned in his own voice.

 

There was a hint of a frown on both Bud and Preston’s face; the twins were delighted. They changed places and voices, teaching the other pair who watched with growing frustration. Then the danced around them, always making sure to keep their fingers—the sure giveaway—hidden.

 

“I have to say this is getting rather tedious,” Preston, the sore loser, huffed.

 

“I think we concede. You girls are just too alike.”

 

The twins stilled and looked at each other, shaking their heads.

 

“They don’t get it at all,” Stanley said in Stanford’s voice.

 

“What a shame,” Stanford agreed in Stanley’s voice. Then in his own, “Though by no means surprising.”

 

Their laughter rung throughout the garden, increasing the look of displeasure on Preston’s face. Bud, on the other hand, seemed more bemused by their antics.

 

“Dinner should be ready. Come along,” Preston ordered, beckoning them with his hand in the same manner he would a servant.

 

“It is about time, eh, Sixer?”

 

Stanford readily nodded, and they followed the men inside.

 

It was a grand home, that was for sure. Stanley eyed the casual riches around them. Imported pottery, busts of past Northwests, marble statues larger than them. Fine tapestries hung all around. And that wasn’t even taking into account the expensive building materials that had gone into the manor. Nothing but the best for Northwests.

 

“This way, girls,” Bud said, offering his arm.

 

“We’ve gotta freshen up first, boys. We’ll meet ya there.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Preston clapped his hands and a servant appeared form the other room. Thankfully it was a face they knew, Juanita.

 

“Escort our young ladies to the powder room.”

 

“Yes, _señor_ Preston.”

 

The twins followed her as the other men headed to the dining area. When they were sure they were far enough away they stopped.

 

“Alright, Juanita, we’re out of here. Mind waiting a bit before letting the clowns know we scrammed?”

 

“You could say we told you that we left something in the carriage then never came back,” Stanford suggested.

 

“Sounds like a good plan. Better than sticking around here. You go.”

 

Stanley winked and they they were out of there. Both carriage and horses had already been put away so they snuck out to the stables. It wasn’t hard to find and they mounted the two calmest looking horses without bothering to saddle up.

 

They raced home at top speed. These horses weren’t as fast as theirs but seemed to like the way Stanley and Stanford pushed them. Preston probably never let them run as free as this, and it must have tasted like ambrosia to the beasts.

 

They staid far from the house, riding on the side of the stables. They dismounted behind the building and let the borrowed horses roam free; if they felt like going back to the Northwests that was on them. After making sure the coast was clear they snuck around the side and slipped in.

 

Astra and Chestnut were excited to see them. They shushed the pair and quickly got them ready to ride, loading up the bag they had packed earlier. 

 

“Ready to leave behind everything we’ve ever known?” Stanley asked.

 

“Readier than I ever thought I’d be.”

 

The twins took one last look around before setting off for the forest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it that's the end! I'm sure the twins will face no more trouble, no one will come after them and they'll live happily ever after, right? Ahahahahaha


	14. Among the Bones and Weeds Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happened to those no good vaqueros. Rick doesn't acknowledge boundaries, Stanford snaps, and oowie are those boys in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get to see what Rick and Fidds were up to! Some of you had good theories, and scenarios I would love to see played out, but here we are.
> 
> Nothing much to warn for here besides a lot of hurt feelings supernatural creatures trying to eat humans.

Everything seemed suspiciously silent when they stopped at their hidden stash. As his twin opened up their box Stanley squinted at the shadows around them. He couldn’t spot anything amiss, however.

 

Chocking it up to his nerves being on edge, Stanley focused back on his brother. Stanford handed him his clothes and they quickly changed.

 

Now Stanley could feel eyes on them and knew it wasn’t just his imagination.

 

“Alright, we know you’re there, ya little pint-sized perverts,” he growled.

 

There was a rustling, and then a lone figure walked out from behind a tree. Shmebulock kept his head downcast, looking absolutely ashamed.

 

“What, no Jeff?”

 

“Shmebulock.”

 

“You really didn’t tell him we entered the forest?” Stanford asked. “Why not?”

 

“Finally wise up and overthrow him yet?”

 

Shmebulock mumbled something they couldn’t make out. He repeated himself a little louder at Stanley’s prompting.

 

“What’s he so busy with? Some new scheme to get us to be his queens?” Shmebulock nodded. “Well it ain’t gonna happen! We just ran from one marriage, and we’re not gonna run right into another one.”

 

“Frankly I’m done with men who want us for their own use,” Stanford snapped. “Especially after Rick and Fiddleford.”

 

The gnome seemed to get fidgety at the mention of those two, wrapping the end of his beard around a finger and tugging roughly.

 

“Something wrong, Shmebulock? You look a little agitated there.”

 

With a sigh the gnome admitted, “Shmebulock.”

 

Stunned silence fell over the group. The twins turned to each other, hardly able to believe the gnome’s confession.

 

“So your idiot actually captured our idiots?”

 

“Shmebulock!”

 

“But why is he going to eat them? Human flesh isn’t a natural part of your diets.”

 

“You really think he cares, Sixer?”

 

“I suppose not. And I suppose we should go rescue them.”

 

“Of course! If anyone’s gonna kill those bastards it’s gonna be us.”

 

After quickly assuring Astra and Chestnut they’d return shortly, they followed Shmebulock. The gnomes’ territory wasn’t too far off and they managed to make it without hassle, sticking to the outskirts and staying hidden.

 

Sure enough two familiar men were stuck in a cramped wooden cage set in the center of the village, right in front of a large pot set over a fire. Rick and Fiddleford seemed mostly unharmed, if a bit scuffed and annoyed. The twins were oddly okay with that.

 

There were a couple of bored guards surrounding the men, and more gnomes were scattered about. Some were lounging aimlessly, and a group of them were playing cards. But a scant few were actually following their leader’s orders.

 

“Alright, alright, let’s get a move on here, boys! Danny, get that water boiling! I want their skin to be so tender it’s falling off the bones.”

 

“Yeesh,” Stanley whispered, “has he been snorting butterfly dust?”

 

Shmebulock shrugged.

 

“Hm. I’d say our best bet is to take the stealth route,” Stanford started, peering intently at the scene before them. “Shmebulock, you distract Jeff while Stanley and I go around back—”

 

Stanley got up and walked over to Jeff. With a sigh Stanford followed.

 

“Hey hey hey, why have you all stopped? And what are you two laughing about?” Jeff demanded, pointing at the caged men.

 

“Didn’t invite us to your party?” Stanley joked, lifting the gnome up by the back of his shirt.

 

“Ha! Good job, babe!” Rick called out. “Punt that creep ah-and let’s get out of here.”

 

“You don’t get to speak,” Stanley barked, and Rick clamped his mouth shut. “But _you_ ,” he poked Jeff in the chest, “better get to explaining yourself.”

 

“Stanley! Stanford! Great to see you again. Dreamt of you every night.”

 

Both twins shivered.

 

“We’ve had a real bad day. Don’t make us take it out on you.”

 

“Never! I live for you, my queens.”

 

“Drop him in the water,” Stanford said.

 

“Shmebulock,” Shmebulock replied, indicating that the water wasn’t hot enough to harm him.

 

“Just tell me what’s going on here.”

 

“Of course. This is just… Alright, this is exactly what it looks like. But I swear I can explain! Set me down and I’ll tell you everything.”

 

“This better be worth it,” Stanley growled, dropping him.

 

“Now, as I was saying—attack!” No one moved. “Guys?” The guard gnomes threw down their spears. “Oh come on!”

 

Stanley pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Why does it always have to be an ordeal with you?”

 

“We need to hurry, Stanley. We’ve already wasted so much time.”

 

“You’re right. Listen up, release those jackasses and we’ll be out of your hats.”

 

Two gnomes started untying the rope holding the cage door closed.

 

“Great, we’re out of here.”

 

As Stanley turned to leave Jeff latched onto his pant leg, begging.

 

“Wait! Admittedly that was a low thing to do, but I’m sorry. I’m just trying to save you! Come on, would you really rather be with those two vagabonds instead of us, who’ll worship you?”

 

Newly freed, Rick and Fiddleford came over. Rick smirked at the gnome.

 

“Not a chance th-they’d stick around with you instead.”

 

“Could have sworn I told you to shut up before,” Stanley said.

 

With a sound of frustration Stanford Ripped Jeff off of his brother. As he kicked the gnome right out of town he hollered, “None of you have a chance!”

 

Everyone watched Jeff soar with wide eyes. Most of the other gnomes suddenly found somewhere else to be.

 

“You, uh, aren’t too happy with us, are ya?” Fiddleford ventured. Stanford shot him a dark look.

 

Pulling at his collar Stanley said, “Yeesh. I think it’s time to get out of here.” He glanced down at Shmebulock. “You gotta stop making excuses for that guy. You deserve someone way better.”

 

“ _Shmebulock_.”

 

Stanley sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I can understand that. Just take care of yourself.”

 

“And maybe reign Jeff in before the others mutiny,” Stanford suggested.

 

The gnome nodded earnestly, promising to do what he could then wishing them good luck as he rushed after his leader. 

 

Rick cleared his throat, doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t trying to get their attention. Stanley and Stanford glanced wordlessly at the pair. Fiddleford’s foot began to tap wildly. 

 

“Thank you fellas for coming to our rescue.”

 

The twins didn’t say anything and his foot tapped faster.

 

“Ah, we were in a real jam there, but you sure saved our bacon!” He gave a nervous chuckle, swallowing hard when the twins still didn’t say anything. “You’re understandably hurt and confused about us leaving.”

 

“So you really were gonna leave without us,” Stanley finally said. “I almost thought maybe the gnomes had just jumped ya before you could meet us.”

 

“Ah, well…” Fiddleford floundered, giving the twins all the answer they needed.

 

“W-w-we had good reasons, for the record.”

 

The twins’ eyes narrowed even further.

 

“You two look lovely by the way. You rival the moon itself,” Fiddleford commented.

 

The twins turned back around and started walking out of the gnome village.

 

“Oh great going, Fiddlefuck,” Rick hissed.

 

“Like you were doing any better!”

 

Stanley spun around and demanded, “Why are you following us?”

 

Rick and Fiddleford looked like startled mice.

 

“Shouldn’t you retrieve your things?” Stanford pointed out.

 

“Yeah, but if we both go you’ll just leave us—”

 

“Almost like how you up and left us, huh?”

 

Before they could respond Shmebulock came back with two horses, handing Rick and Fidds their reigns.

 

“Oh, well that takes care of that. Ah, thank you,” Fiddleford said.

 

Shmebulock tipped his hat and left again.

 

“Great, you got your things. Now get the hell away from us.”

 

“What, you’re not even going to listen to us?”

 

“Rick, we don’t got time for this.”

 

“What’s the rush? It’s not that late.”

 

“Yeah, well we’ve got to get before people realize we’re gone. Gotta put plenty of space between us and Gravity Falls. Come on, Sixer.”

 

“Wait, are you fellas running off?”

 

“Sure looks like it, huh.”

 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Stanford added.

 

Rick reached out, putting his hand on Stanley’s back. Stanford didn’t miss his brother’s grunt though the others didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Oh, you’ve lost touching privileges,” he snapped, shrugging him off.

 

“Just let us explain already!” Rick huffed back.

 

The twins ignored him and kept on walking. Of course the other pair couldn’t just leave them alone. No, suddenly they didn’t want to be separated.

 

“Why are you fellas leaving now?” Fiddleford wondered.

 

“Oh, I see. You can leave whenever you want but we can’t? Did you just expect us to wait around for you?” Stanley snorted. “We ain’t just some pretty toys you can set down and come back to whenever ya feel like it, y’know.”

 

“Stanley, that’s not at all what I’m getting at. I was just—”

 

“Fiddleford, _please_ ,” Stanford interjected as Astra and Chestnut trotted over to them. “We don’t have time. Also, I don’t care.”

 

The horses rubbed against them happily. Stanley whispered to Chestnut, rubbing her head while Stanford stroked Astra’s mane.

 

Rick put his hand on Stanley again, this time on his shoulder. Stanley instantly stiffened.

 

“Come with us, Lee.”

 

“Rick, get your hand off me.”

 

“H-hold on, and just fucking listen to me for a second.”

 

“Get. Your. Hand. _Off me_.”

 

Instead Rick’s hand trailed a little lower, and Stanley hissed in pain. Without thinking Stanford reeled back and slugged Rick across the face. He stumbled backwards, letting go of Stanley and tripping on a tree root. All three men looked at Stanford in disbelief.

 

Breathing hard, Stanford pushed up his glasses. A blush bloomed on his cheeks.

 

“Stanley said to stop touching him. You should have listened.”

 

Stanley gently laid a hand on Stanford’s arm. When his twin turned to him he assured, “Sixer, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” He suddenly grinned. “But first.”

 

He brushed past the other men and stopped in front of their horses. He rummaged through their bags, not taking long at all to find what he was after.

 

“We’ll be holding onto this.”

 

“Now wait just a minute,” Fiddleford spoke up.

 

“Yeah, you two don’t have a good track record right now so the motor stays with us,” Stanley told them as the twins mounted their horses. “Consider it insurance.”

 

“‘Insurance’?” the other two repeated.

 

First Stanley shared a smirk with Stanford then tossed the other men a wink.

 

“So ya won’t run off without us again. Now come on, we’re burning moonlight.”

 

It was a little funny to watch the gears turning in those big brains of theirs. Stanley snickered as wide grins broke out across their faces; even Stanford couldn’t help chuckling along. Especially as they scrambled onto their horses.

 

They hurried through the forest, Rick and Fidds riding close behind. Thankfully they didn’t challenge the sometimes roundabout paths the twins took. They must have learned their lesson from the gnomes, and realized that the twins knew the safest ways to go.

 

“Stanley,” Stanford whispered, siding up next to his brother, “are you alright?”

 

“Course I am.”

 

“I only ask because the look on your face.”

 

“Just concentrating on riding.”

 

“Really? Because you seem to be in pain.”

 

Stanley rolled his eyes but admitted, “Alright, fine, my back is killing me. This hasn’t exactly been an easy night. Once we stop for the night, though, I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

 

“Let me put more salve on you when we do stop.”

 

“If it wasn’t an emergency earlier it isn’t one now. Besides, they don’t need to know anything.”

 

The twins glanced back at Rick and Fiddleford who seems to be having their own secret conversation. When they noticed they were being watched they snapped their heads forward and smiled like kids pretending they weren’t trying to get out of trouble.

 

“I can’t tell if we have paramours or kids,” Stanley commented loud enough for them to hear.

 

“And I thought taking care of you was bad enough.”

 

Stanley smirked and flipped him off.

 

For only his brother’s ears Stanford asked, “So are we forgiving them just like that?”

 

“Hell no, Sixer. You know me better than that. But I want to know what in hell’s name they were thinking.”

 

Stanford nodded in acceptance.

 

The four rode for a while. The sun was beginning to rise when they made it out of the forest. They were were out of Gravity Falls.

 

They couldn’t stop yet, though. People already had to be looking for them. Who knew how long Preston and Bud would wait until admitting to Filbrick they had disappeared, but eventually they would have to. Then they would have told the sheriff who would start by scouring the town. Carla and Susan would get the third degree for sure, and the twins felt guilty for not saying goodbye, just leaving them with their mess. They were tough girls, though, and they had each other.

 

There was a whole lot of nothing and no one for miles. _Perfect_. Stanley grit his teeth and kept moving. Thankfully Stanford did stop hounding him, though he could still feel his brother’s worried eyes on him. Rick and Fidds wisely kept quiet, too. Every time he glanced back he saw them still furtively conversing too low for them to be heard.

 

Good, let them get their story straight now.

 

It was midday before they finally stopped. Stanford forced them to after noticing how Stanley was about to fall off Chestnut. He was ready to protest until he twisted in the saddle and a searing pain shot up his back.

 

“Alright we’ll rest for an hour.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Stanley rolled his eyes, dismounting gingerly. He stretched out with a groan and hoped the others would think nothing of it.

 

Fingers brushed against his hips and Stanley’s breath hitched. Then a mouth was at his ear.

 

“You look so good right now, babe.”

 

Rick’s hand started to move to the front and Stanley quickly grabbed it.

 

“You are not as smooth as you think you are, Rick.”

 

Stanley kept hold of Rick’s wrist as he slipped out of the other man’s grasp. He plopped to the ground and pulled him down, ordering him to sit as through Rick had a choice. Stanley didn’t take his eyes off Rick as Stanford led Fiddleford over, sitting him next to his partner before joining Stanley’s side.

 

“You fellas can be awfully intimidating,” Fiddleford commented, keeping his voice level even as he twiddled his fingers in that nervous way of his.

 

“One good thing Filbrick ever gave us.”

 

“No, I’d say we got that from ma,” Stanford said.

 

Stanley leaned forward, squeezing Rick’s wrist.

 

“So, why don’t you fill us in on what we missed?”

 

They glanced at each other and Stanley squeezed tighter.

 

“Eyes on us, boys. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

 

“H-hey, like I said, we had a good reason for leaving,” Rick said. The twins looked at him expectantly. “Tell them, Fidds.”

 

“Me?” he squeaked. When he realized he couldn’t get out of it he cleared his throat. “Right. We had a very good reason. We do feel awful about leaving you boys, but it was the only thing to do.”

 

“Your only option was to _abandon_ us?” Stanford scoffed.

 

“Ya could have just grabbed us and we’d have rode out together the other night,” Stanley agreed. “That way you wouldn’t have almost ended up gnome food.”

 

“Boys you don’t understand.” They waited for him to continue but Fiddleford just bit his lip.

 

“Listen, it’s dangerous to stay with us.”

 

“Oh, we are well aware that you’re both hazardous,” Stanford agreed, his twin nodding.

 

“You’re not getting it. You are in actual danger every second you’re with us. We…have some enemies.” 

 

“I’ll contain my shock.”

 

“I’m serious, Stanford!”

 

“So are we,” Stanley said. “You think we didn’t realize you guys were acting strange? You keep everything hidden, you’re afraid of the sheriff, you act skittish about your past. Obviously something was up.”

 

The pair shared a look.

 

“I knew they were too perceptive for our own good.”

 

“In retrospect it was a little obvious, huh?”

 

“Yup,” the twins chimed.

 

“Besides, why would it matter now if we were just planning on running away with you later, anyway?” Stanley pointed out.

 

Rick and Fiddleford didn’t meet their eyes. A chill ran down their spines.

 

“You weren’t actually planning on taking us with you,” Stanford realized.

 

“Now hold on before you get angry,” Fiddleford hurriedly said, holding his hands up. “It’s not like that. We want you with us, we really do. But like we told you it’s dangerous here.”

 

“He means this planet.”

 

“The plan was to get the portal gun a-working and take you boys with us. If’n we didn’t, well, we were sure you boys could manage here by yourselves. You know how to take care of each other.”

 

For a moment all Stanley could feel was a white hot anger that paralyzed his tongue. He knew he should rage at the other men, _wanted_ to. But he was stuck just staring ahead.

 

Thankfully Stanford wasn’t affected the same.

 

Springing to his feet he shouted, “This partnership is through! Get out of here _now_.”

 

“H-hold on there, Sixer. That was before,” Rick said, standing slowly. Stanley hadn’t even realized his grip on the other man had slackened. “Since we’re all together now you might as well come with us.”

 

“‘Might as well’?” Stanford laughed at the absurdity.

 

Also rising Fiddleford said, “Let’s not start fighting, fellas. We’re still talking things out. Let us—”

 

“I’ve heard enough. You two are just the most current in a long line of men who’ve used us for their own gain. And you’re the last. This partnership is over.”

 

“Stanford please just wait a minute,” Fiddleford tried, reaching out for him. Stanford stepped back from the hand like the other man’s touch was poison.

 

“We don’t need you! We don’t need anyone but each other. You just said as much yourself, _Fiddleford_. Come on, Stanley.”

 

When Stanley didn’t move he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Stanley looked up startled, as though he had been deep in his own mind. With a small nod he pushed himself up.

 

“Lee, listen to me already!”

 

Once again Rick touched Stanley’s back and once again Stanford’s body moved on reflex. He slammed into Rick, sending them both crashing to the ground. Dirt got kicked up into his mouth and eyes but Stanford ignored it as he seethed at the man under him.

 

“If you ever touch my brother again without his explicit permission I will shoot you where you stand. Do you understand me, Sanchez?”

 

“So w-we, we’re on last name terms now?”

 

Stanford lifted Rick an inch forward then slammed him back down. The other man clenched his jaw, pain evident on his face, but didn’t let out a sound.

 

“This is not an idle threat. No one is ever going to hurt Stanley again.” So low only Rick heard he added, “Or else why would we even bother with a fresh start?”

 

His voice had cracked and Rick was looking at him with something like concern. It made Stanford feel sick. He quickly pushed himself off the other man, ignoring Fiddleford completely as he went to Astra. From their bag he pulled out their least used piece of monster studying equipment: a pistol.

 

“Fuck,” Rick and Fiddleford said together.

 

“Why so surprised?” Stanley chuckled. “You think we just went into that forest without protection? There are things in there that eat humans. Not everything’s as harmless as the gnomes.”

 

“Ma made sure we learned how to use this. We weren’t kidding when we said she as probably a better shot than—than Filbrick.”

 

Fiddleford visibly gulped. Rick had sense enough to stay where he was on the ground, not a finger twitching.

 

“If either one of you dares to harm Stanley—”

 

“Or Stanford—”

 

“We will shoot you,” they promised together.

 

Rick and Fiddleford seemed like they got the hint. They staid frighteningly still as Stanford put the gun away and they mounted their horses.

 

“Not a full hour, but I already feel reinvigorated.”

 

“Ha! Same, Sixer. Think you can keep up?”

 

Stanford opened his mouth to reply but suddenly Rick’s voice cut in.

 

“H-hold on. The motor—”

 

“Way I see it, since he’s the one who managed to stop it exploding, it’s his.”

 

“Now just you wait a minute,” Fiddleford argued, “that piece of machinery is mighty important—”

 

“Ah, unlike us.”

 

Fiddleford’s cheeks were turning red.

 

“I didn’t mean that at all, Stanford. Please, you don’t understand. We need that motor—”

 

“And we needed you!” Stanley snapped.

 

Before either of the men could speak again Chestnut reared up with a loud whiny. Rick and Fiddleford backed up. 

 

Stanford knew the other men wouldn’t abandon what they’d worked hard on, even if they were ready to abandon him and his brother. Stanford worked hard on it, too, though, and wasn’t willing to part without gaining _something_ from this travesty of a partnership. 

 

“Once we replicate our own I don’t see why we can’t give this one back to you,” Stanford mused.

 

“Heh, why not? Sure, if you _vaqueros_ can keep up we may give you this motor back. Eventually.”

 

He laughed lout and free as they turned their horse around and started off. Before going too far Stanford looked back at the men who were scrambling for their own horses.

 

“I wouldn’t recommend getting too close, now!”

 

Stanford’s laughter joined his brother’s and they urged their horses on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now just wait until next chapter where we learn their backstory.


	15. Brother I Have Never Not Been Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins give Rick and Fidds one last chance to speak, and they learn a lot about the other men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see part of Rick and Fidds' backstory! And oh boy is it a doozy! This is a heavy chapter. There's quite a bit of death, and some of it is a little graphic. Oh and mentions of nondescript threats that are open to imagination.

It was _cold_. Their teeth and skeletons rattled.

 

In their haste it had slipped their minds to bring any blankets. At least they had jackets, and each other. The twins huddled close, trying to keep each other warm as they flitted in and out of restless sleep.

 

They had raced as far as they could, losing the other two hours ago. Now it was twilight and they were exhausted. Anyone could be hot on their heels, however, so they could only afford a small rest.

 

Stanford gazed up at the changing sky. It was beautiful out here. More beautiful than it had been in Gravity Falls. Obviously it was the same sky, same sun, same wind. But out here it felt… _more_. It made Stanford feel like _more_.

 

A laugh bubbled out of him. Stanford slapped a hand to his mouth, glancing over at Stanley. His twin mumbled in his sleep but otherwise didn’t stir.

 

As Stanford was debating on reapplying more salve to Stanley’s would while he couldn’t protest, the horses began to make a racket. Stanley and he both sprung upright, former grabbing the gun laying between them. He pointed it at a figure who instantly held up his hands.

 

The brothers rolled their eyes. Stanley reluctantly lowered the gun, if only because he didn’t feel like wasting a bullet quite yet.

 

“That’s close enough, McGucket,” Stanley warned, plopping back down. He winced as his back connected with the ground.

 

“Please think before you do things,” Stanford chastised.

 

“Don’t worry, fellas, Rick is staying back. I just wanted to come and give you this right quick.”

 

Fiddleford motioned to the blanket draped over his shoulder. Stanford eyed him warily, but a strong breeze burst across the clearing and he turned away from the other man. He listened to Fiddleford’s approaching footfalls.

 

“You boys could catch your death of cold if’n you aren’t careful,” he said softly, unfolding the blanket.

 

Stanley grunted; Stanford remained silent.

 

With a sigh that made Stanford feel a mixture of emotions he didn’t want to wade through, Fiddleford covered them. He brought it up to Stanley’s neck, but since Stanford was still sitting it fell onto his lap. Instantly his legs felt some relief in stark contrast to his exposed upper body.

 

Fiddleford was kneeling beside him, tucking the blanket around Stanford as best he could. Stanford kept his eyes trained downwards. He didn’t want to look Fiddleford in the face, afraid of what might be there.

 

“Get some rest, Stanford.”

 

Fiddleford’s hand rose, pausing just a breath away from Stanford’s cheek where a stray hair had fallen. It was hard not to turn just a fraction and meet Fiddleford’s gaze. Stanford resisted, though, and finally Fiddleford stood.

 

“Hey,” Stanley called out as the other man started off. “Tell Rick—ah, never mind.”

 

When fiddleford was out of sight Stanford laid down. He studied his brother curiously as he nestled into this new warmth.

 

“Smells like him,” Stanley explained. “Rick, I mean. The blanket.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Night, Sixer.”

 

“Night, Lee.”

 

With the blanket stopping the worst of the chill, they drifted off to sleep.

 

——

 

Someone was shaking Stanley awake. It was a five fingered hand, one whose touch was intimately familiar. Stanley’s eyes shot open; the curses he had been about to spew died on his tongue at the grave look on Rick’s face.

 

“We saw some riders,” he explained without preamble.

 

“Some fellas we saw around town before,” Fiddleford added, handing Stanford his glasses.

 

“No doubt looking for us. Let’s hurry.”

 

As he and Stanley stood they shared a quick glance between each other and the other pair.

 

“Thanks for the warning.”

 

Everyone wanted to say more but there was no time. The four mounted their horses and raced in a direction they hoped was safe.

 

Rick and Fiddleford rode close to them. Silently the twins agreed not to outride them again. Not yet, anyway.

 

By some small miracle they didn’t come across anyone. Maybe the search party had gone in another direction, affording them some time.

 

They stumbled upon a small dilapidated shack. It seemed like it hadn’t been occupied in years. They left the horses out back and explored the place. Parts of the roof had fallen, but most of it was relatively in tact. It probably wouldn’t come crashing down on them as they rested.

 

Some furniture had been left behind, including a small couch that looked as though an animal had been chewing it all over for about a decade. Stanley pointed at it expectantly while Stanford brought over two rickety chairs. Rick and Fidds took the hint.

 

“This reminds me of being in trouble as a kid,” Fiddleford commented with a little chuckle. His mouth snapped shut at Stanford’s sharp gaze.

 

“L-listen, I’m not about to sit here and be scolded by you two of all people.”

 

“Hey, I admit I’ve done my fair share of stupid shit, Rick, but I never did what you did.”

 

“We’ve never promised to help someone escape a suffocating predicament then leave them behind without a word.”

 

That seemed to shut Rick up. Both men suddenly found other places to look besides at the brothers.

 

“You fellas must have a lot of questions, and it’s about time we tell the truth. You deserve that at the very least. If you’re willing to listen.”

 

“You get one more chance to talk.”

 

“Use this opportunity wisely.”

 

Rick leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms out across the top and crossing his legs. He appeared completely at ease as he admitted, “We’re wanted for murder.”

 

Silence filled the shack. The twins glanced at each other.

 

“Was he expecting shock?”

 

“Yeesh Sixer, have a little faith in ‘em.”

 

“Oh, so you are surprised?”

 

Stanley turned again towards the others, lack of response saying everything.

 

Rick seemed offended for a second before shrugging.

 

“You’ll really be surprised in a second,” he said.

 

Fiddleford took a deep breath and finally met the twins’ gaze.

 

“We’re wanted for arson, horse theft, extortion, and three counts of murder. Sheriff Offerman, Betsy McGucket, and Florence McGucket.”

 

Now the twins were shocked.

 

They were at a loss for words, and as the silence stretched on Fiddleford’s leg bounced wildly. Rick reached over and grabbed his knee. It stilled for a second before going right back to bouncing.

 

“And that’s why we had to get the hell out of Gravity Falls,” Rick told them.

 

“We really didn’t want to, but we had to. And we couldn’t take you with us, even if we really wanted to. But we couldn’t risk your lives like that!”

 

Rick squeezed Fiddleford’s knee, quieting the other man.

 

“Those two shucks cornered us after we took you home. Apparently they had done some digging and found out we were wanted. Told us to either clear out or they’d tip off the sheriff. And of course if you came too they’d do the same.”

 

“Why not just turn you in to begin with?” Stanford wondered.

 

“Yeah, there’d have to be a reward involved, and the prestige of helping catch two criminals.”

 

“Yeah, well, apparently there are more important things to them. Namely you two. Or what you could mean for them, anyway. I think Preston’s exact words were—” and he imitated the man’s haughty tone, “‘It would reflect poorly on us if our wives to be were known to consort with wanted ruffians.’”

 

Stanley groaned; Stanford rubbed his temples.

 

“Sounds like that onion peel alright.”

 

“We knew no one would actually believe what really happened so we just ran.”

 

“What did really happen?” Stanford asked softly.

 

Fiddleford and Rick exchanged a glance. Something passed wordlessly between them and they turned back to the twins.

 

“It’s a long story. Take it away, Fidds.”

 

Fiddleford cleared his throat. Through some great act he managed to still his leg. In its place his hands moved around erratically as he talked.

 

“Well, everything started years ago. Like I’ve told you fellas before I grew up the family hog farm. It was me, my ma and pa, and four sisters and brother. Things weren’t always easy, and we didn’t have much, but we were happy.”

 

There was a far off twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly it was snuffed out.

 

“For a while, anyway. I was just turning thirteen when our original sheriff fell ill and died, replaced by Offerman. He wasn’t a good man at all. One of those authority types that likes to throw their weight around. And oh boy, did he throw it around, alright. Made my family and the other nearby farms pay him for ‘protection’. We barely managed to scrape up enough each month to pay him off. If’n we didn’t we knew what would happen. The Millers down the way refused. Their oldest boy had a mysterious _accident_ and broke his neck. Poor missus Miller never set foot outsider her home after that.

 

“So we paid. That went on fer a few years. Then Rick came into town, just passing through, and my family let him stay the night. One night turned into hiring him on. He is terrible at wrangling swine.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine with that not being one of my many talents.”

 

Fiddleford snorted.

 

“You sure tried at first.”

 

There was a hint of a smile on Rick’s face as he rolled his eyes.

 

“Rick really was handy around the farm, believe it or not. Back when he didn’t _always_ leave the tough jobs to other people. The most important thing he did, though, was help me figure out myself. He opened up my eyes to possibilities I never dreamt of back then. Made me realize that I _could_ be a boy for real instead of just daydreaming what it would be like.”

 

Both twins glanced over at Rick. His eyes were closed and seemed almost like he was dozing off, but they knew he was still listening.

 

“It was nice for a while. But then it was payment time. The sheriff’s goons came around, said protection prices had gone up. They demanded more than we had. Things…” He was staring hard at the floor now. “Things started going awry. See, my older sisters had taken the little ones into the cellar like usual when the men came. Rick and I were supposed to be with them, but we had snuck off earlier and lost track of time. When we came home we were gonna just sneak around the back, but then I heard yelling.”

 

Fiddleford fell silent. There was a haunted look on his face and the twins didn’t prod him. Instead Rick leaned forward, taking over.

 

“It was Betsy. Fiddleford raced inside and I followed to keep him from doing anything stupid.” He gave a derisive little snort and pulled out his flask. After a generous drink he continued. “Shit, I-I’m the one who did something stupid. I owed that woman a lot. She was a hell of a lot better than my own mother.

 

“She was arguing with those bastards who were going around breaking things. Joseph, her husband, was trying to reason with them, asking for more time to get the extra money together. That’s when one of them grabbed Fidds and threatened to snap his neck unless they paid up.”

 

The twins both clenched their fists, Stanford brining one up to his mouth.

 

“Betsy lost it. She struck him barehanded, which didn’t do much other than aggravate him. His partner grabbed her, th-th-th, threw her across the room. I grabbed the fire poker and smashed it across the back of that bastard’s head. He dropped Fidds. After that it’s hard to remember what exactly happened.”

 

“A lot of things happened,” Fiddleford agreed, eyes glistening. “My pa and Rick grappled with those thugs while I checked on ma. She had hit her head and was bleeding real bad. As I was trying to help her out of there my big sister Gracie rushed up from the cellar to warn that they’d seen the sheriff and deputy riding over. She had already sent Patty and the little ones over to our closest neighbor. Tried ta get ma to leave with Gracie but she wouldn’t go. Refused to leave us behind. Then before we knew it the sheriff came in with guns drawn.”

 

“He aimed one at Joseph so I tackled the fucker. He still got a shot in, though. Joseph went down and Fidds jumped in trying to protect him. I don’t know how but a fire got started. Everything seemed to go up in flames pretty quickly.”

 

“A beam fell. Ma managed to push Gracie out of the way, but she was crushed underneath it. I tried to reach her but one of the thugs had a hold of me. I fought against him—she was still alive, I could save her!—but he was too strong. Gracie knocked him down with something but before I could get to ma she grabbed me. Ma was still alive, and she was getting eaten up by flames.”

 

Tears fell freely down Fiddleford’s face. His hands were tangled together, nails digging into his flesh. Stanford reached over and cupped them gently. With his thumbs he massaged circles against the other man’s skin.

 

Fiddleford tried to continue but his voice quivered. Rick squeezed his shoulder and once more took over.

 

“One of the goons ended up shot dead at some point, and one of the sheriff’s guns got lost. I wrestled the second one from him. When he ran out I raced over to Fiddleford and Gracie. I told her to focus on her pa while I picked Fidds up and carried him out of the house. Th-there was nothing we could do for Betsy.”

 

Rick stuttered heavily for a moment, words all tangling up. He swallowed hard and tried again.

 

“We managed to get out, but none of us were in the best of shape. Joseph was unconscious and covered in blood, and Fidds kept fighting me to go back inside. I was so busy holding him back I didn’t notice the sheriff rounding up behind me until Gracie hollered. On pure instinct I held up the gun and fired. Bullet went right between his eyes.”

 

Rick took another slow drink from his flask then let out a loud belch.

 

“The deputy was already racing off before we could stop him. Figured he went to go form a posse—and turned out I was right. We didn’t have much time. They’d string me up for sure. Gracie urged me to go, and Fidds came with me. Later on we found out they pinned everything on us.”

 

“I told her to say I had died in the fire. Rather, that Florence McGucket died in that fire. Then I started over as Fiddleford.”

 

They wanted to comfort the other men. Neither twin was sure how to, though. There weren’t easy words for an admission like that. So Stanford kept holding Fiddleford’s hands while Stanley tried to convey everything he could with a single look.

 

The shack fell quiet. Occasionally Fiddleford sniffled, having shed all the tears he had in him for the moment. Rick took another sip from his flask before passing it around. When it came back to him he broke the silence.

 

“Since we already told you this much we might as well be fully honest.”

 

Fiddleford nodded, looking at first Stanley then Stanford.

 

“Fellas, you deserve to know the truth. About the portal gun. It’s not just a way to travel between worlds, but also dimensions.”

 

Stanley’s face scrunched up. “Hey Sixer, didn’t you say something about how their notes were all screwy?”

 

“Indeed,” he confirmed, pushing up his glasses. “Judging by some of your previous equations and notes I had started to hypothesize this very notion.

 

Rick laughed, the sound echoing throughout the run down shack. Fiddleford let out his own chuckle.

 

“Fuck, Sixer, y-you’re a goddamn genius, aren’t you?”

 

Stanford couldn’t help his smirk.

 

“Just astute.”

 

“There’s more, though,” Fiddleford said. “We know for a fact this is more than just a theory. We’ve seen a portal open before.”

 

Now that caught the twins off guard.

 

“It didn’t open up from this side,” Rick told them. “One day we were just camping out and this green light appeared, like a swirling vortex.”

 

“It was like the very fabric of reality just ripped open in front of us!”

 

“Different versions of us came through.”

 

“Wait,” Stanley interrupted, “come again?”

 

“They mean they saw versions of themselves from another reality, Stanley.” Stanford’s eyes sparkled with awe and delight.

 

“Not as great as it sounds,” Rick said bitterly. “Their portal gun was barely functioning, and in fact only had enough energy for a one-way trip.”

 

“Well no problem. Couldn’t you just have worked with your other selves to fix it?” Stanley wondered.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Unfortunately those other uses didn’t survive long. In fact, Rick wasn’t even conscious when he came through, and never would be again. The other me said they came from a vastly different world. It was so fascinating to hear him describe it. He told us of such wonders!”

 

“But he didn’t live long?”

 

“No. He, ah, got a terrible infection from a wound on his leg. Apparently those versions of us were on the run from someone, as well.”

 

“So we looted their corpses,” Rick added as nonchalant as though stating the weather.

 

“Yeesh.” Stanley paused. “Did they have anything good?”

 

“Well these binders for one,” Fiddleford answered, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the binding they always wore. “Apparently these are common in their world for men like us, to make our chests appear flatter. Very useful.”

 

Stanley whistled in agrement.

 

“What about the portal gun?” Stanford wondered.

 

“No luck. It was all broken up. Looked like it had died as soon as opening the one portal. Nothing was salvageable.”

 

“Hm. Unfortunate, but at least there’s proof we can make our own.”

 

“Hopefully without dying,” Stanley added.

 

“I’d be mighty happy to keep on living,” Fiddleford agreed.

 

It was getting late, and the four were exhausted. Physically and mentally. After tending to the horses they made an attempt to get some sleep, Stanford volunteering for first watch.

 

He didn’t stay up alone. Fiddleford was nestled in his arms on the hard mattress they’d found shoved in a corner, face pressed into Stanford’s chest. While Rick and his brother were on the ground beside them passed out, Fiddleford had been shaking and trying to stifle his sobs.

 

Stanford desperately wished he was better at comforting people. When ma had held them after nightmares or after dealing with Filbrick’s temper she would rub their backs and tell them stories. He did the first; he couldn’t think of a story which would help, and didn’t think there was one after what they’d been told today. Instead he pressed his lips to the top of Fiddleford’s head.

 

When he had calmed down a bit Fiddleford adjusted so he could look up at Stanford. His face was a mess, and even in the little light afforded by the moon trickling in from the holes in the ceiling Stanford could see how puffy his eyes were. Without thinking he brushed away some of the fresher tears. Fiddleford gave him a strained smile.

 

“Sorry about this, Stanford.”

 

“There’s no reason to apologize. I can’t imagine how difficult it was to relive what happened.”

 

Fiddleford swallowed hard.

 

“Incredibly. I miss them everyday. I worry about my siblings, but I shouldn’t contact them. Can’t risk putting ‘em in danger. And I doubt Gracie told the others what happened fer fear of them accidentally telling someone else.”

 

“What about your father, would she have told him?”

 

“My pa died shortly after we skedaddled.”

 

“His injuries?”

 

Fiddleford shook his head slowly, averting his eyes.

 

“Pa died of a broken heart. He couldn’t go on without the love of his life. Gracie told me he was never the same after…well, after. So she took over everything. Gracie’s a great gal, though. Resourceful, goodhearted. She already had ideas on how to rebuild the one time I did talk to her.”

 

Stanford ran is fingers through Fiddleford’s hair as the other man fell silent. He almost missed his companions mumbles.

 

“She must hate me for killing our parents.”

 

“Fiddleford, look at me.”

 

He kept his gaze down. Stanford cupped his chin gently and turned his face upwards.

 

“Nothing that happened was your fault. You couldn’t have saved your mother. I’m sure she’d be grateful all her children were safe.”

 

“You don’t understand, Stanford. I didn’t tell you earlier, but…but when that thug grabbed me…” Fiddleford sniffled and more tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. “At first he thought I was just another farmhand. Ma didn’t attack him until he recognized me. She was trying to strike a deal but then he realized who I was and, oh the things he said he’d do to me if they didn’t pay up made ma fly into a rage. If I hadn’t been so stupid and run in my parents would still be alive!”

 

“ _No_.” Stanford held the other man’s head firmly in place so he couldn’t look away. “There’s no way to know what would have happened if you hand’t rushed in. Maybe your parents would still both be dead. It doesn’t seem like those men were the reasoning type, after all. But most importantly you cannot blame yourself for what happened.”

 

“But Stanford—”

 

“ _Fiddleford_. I listened to you, now you listen to me. When someone hurts you it is not your fault. Especially if they hurt you for who you are, or for protecting someone you love. Don’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

 

Fiddleford looked ready to cry again. Stanford didn’t know what else to do so he kissed Fiddleford tenderly, hoping that the other man could understand even half of what Stanford thought of him.  

 

Thank you, Stanford. For so much.”

 

“Try and gets some sleep now, Fidds. We’ve got a long day of riding ahead of us.”

 

Fiddleford smiled. 

 

“Does that mean you fellas forgive us?”

 

“I don’t know for sure. I can understand the circumstances from your perspective, of course. So I’m sure you can understand it from ours.”

 

“I’m truly sorry, Stanford. It was awful of us to leave you two like that.”

 

Stanford flashed him a smile.

 

“If you don’t leave us again I’m sure Stanley and I can forgive you. We’ve already made progress, haven’t we? I haven’t shot Rick yet.”

 

Fiddleford giggled. 

 

“That is a good sign.”

 

“Exactly. Now get some sleep, Fiddleford.”

 

They both got comfortable, Fiddleford laying his head on Stanford’s chest and closing his eyes. Stanford rubbed his back again and soon his breathing evened out.

 

Stanford glanced at the other pair; they were in much the same position, with Rick laying half on top of Stanley and Stanley holding onto the other man. His brother’s eyes were open. Stanford reached down and Stanley took his hand.

 

“You know, it’s not your fault if something happens to someone else, either,” Stanley said. “Even if they’re protecting you.”

 

“Get some sleep, Stanley.”

 

Stanley closed his eyes, moving Rick closer to him. Stanford couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. He ran his fingers through Fiddleford’s hair and kept an ear out for anything amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, we also find out why these vaqueros have binders. So many answers this chapter!


	16. When the Fires Have Surrounded You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are having a great time! Minus the, well, you'll see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the boys are all together, maybe their relationships can start to heal. Or, uh, maybe there isn't the time for that.

Breakfast was nearly ready when Rick finally stirred. There was confusion and grogginess on his face as he looked around; Stanley tried hard not to find it endearing, but a smile slipped out regardless.

 

“Mm, food,” he mumbled dreamily.

 

“Coffee too,” Stanley told him.

 

“Wake FIddleford up, please,” Stanford requested, walking into the shack. He set down four cups on the kitchen counter.

 

Rick eagerly shook Fiddleford. The other man shot up, instantly alert.

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“They cooked for us. It’s either a dream come true or we’re going to be poisoned.”

 

“Well I’m mighty hungry so I’ll take my chances,” Fiddleford decided.

 

The twins laughed as the pair came over, sitting on the only chairs. Stanford poured them both a cup of Arbuckle’s while Stanley moved around the shack’s cramped kitchen. By some miracle Stanford had gotten the dutch oven to work so they had whipped up some biscuits. Stanley set them on a cracked plate between the four.

 

“Not much but it’ll do,” he commented cheerily, taking one for himself.

 

“This was awfully sweet of you boys to do.” Fiddleford took a bite. “Mm, they are mighty tasty.”

 

“Hearty breakfasts are imperative for a hard day of travel. Admittedly we may have been slacking on that lately,” Stanford sheepishly admitted.

 

Rick eyed the twins knowingly.

 

“Let’s see. No blankets, one bag between the two of you, and judging by the fact these cups and plate are ours you got into our supplies for this breakfast.”

 

“Well hey, maybe if we had had a little warning we could have prepared better,” Stanley retorted.

 

“For the record I went through all your belongings, making a list of what we had and how best to ration everything. Also I reorganized—actually organized—your chaotic mess. You’re welcome.”

 

“Yeah, you’re both a real mess, and that’s something coming from us,” Stanley said.

 

While Rick seemed unaffected, Fiddleford blushed.

 

“W-we didn’t make you run away before you had all your shit together, you know.”

 

“Uh, _yeah_ , ya did. With you two suddenly gone we had to scram at the first chance we got.”

 

“Why’d you have to leave so quickly?” Fiddleford asked.

 

Stanford looked pointedly at him over the brim of his cup.

 

“Why do you think?”

 

“I mean, of course yer betrothal would be back on, but couldn’t you fellas have waited a few nights?”

 

“And then you’d both be eaten by gnomes,” Stanford countered.

 

“Besides, you two weren’t there.” Stanley snorted derisively. “You weren’t the ones having to be touched by those shucks, or having to deal with Filbrick. If we staid a minute longer I don’t know what else would have happened.”

 

Rick and Fiddleford looked at him curiously. Before they could question him Stanford quickly veered the conversation away from dangerous territory.

 

“Regardless, that’s all irrelevant. We need to focus on the present, and future. It’d be best if we head east. It’ll be easier to get lost in a city, and supplies for the portal gun should be easier to come by.”

 

“Oh,” Fiddleford spoke up, “we were actually thinking of heading towards—”

 

Stanford held up a silencing hand, not glancing away from his twin. Pointing down at Fiddleford’s biscuit he ordered, “Eat.”

 

“But—”

 

“ _Eat_.”

 

“You, too, Rick,” Stanley said as the other man opened his mouth. He shoved a biscuit in it for good measure, chuckling at Rick’s peeved expression.

 

“Just because we’re letting you two come with us doesn’t mean you get any sort of input on where we go. That’s a privilege you’ll need to earn.”

 

“So keep quiet and enjoy yer coffee.”

 

Stanford spread out a map he took out of his jacket and the brothers discussed their plans. Rick and Fiddleford actually obeyed, listening without saying a word. There were several moments where either one looked ready to jump in but they managed to hold their tongues.

 

“Well, we’ve staid here long enough,” Stanford declared, rolling up the map. “Let’s move out.”

 

Everyone gathered up their things and hurriedly packed up. After saddling up Fiddleford gave a rudimentary search of his newly organized bags. 

 

“Stanford, where’d you put my chew?”

 

“I got rid of it.”

 

“You _what_?”

 

“It’s a rather nasty habit, Fiddleford.”

 

Fiddleford sputtered. He watched Stanford mount Astra in disbelief.

 

“We really should be going.”

 

“Please tell me you’re just fooling, darlin’.”

 

“Terms of endearment are another privilege you’ll have to earn back,” Stanford replied. “Now, onwards.”

 

Stanford turned Astra in the direction they had chosen. Stanley let out a laugh as he followed suit.

 

“That’s a funny joke you just pulled, Stanford. Got me good.” Fiddleford forced a chuckle as he mounted his horse. “When we stop again you can tell me where you actually packed it.”

 

Rick rode up beside his partner and clamped him on the back.

 

“I don’t think you’re gonna win this one, Fidds.”

 

Stanley glanced back and laughed again at the desolate look on Fiddleford’s face. Flashing a quick grin to his twin they both started off. A second later they heard the other men following.

 

——

 

This was not good.

 

Stanley slid back own the hill where the others were waiting with baited breath. He relayed what he had seen.

 

“Two of them, Preston and Bud. Doubt they’re alone, though.”

 

“Damn it,” Stanford cursed. “We’ll have to go another way.”

 

“If’n I recall correctly there should be a river some miles to the north. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go there and follow it.”

 

“Didn’t realize we asked for your ideas, but i kinda like that one so I guess we’ll let it slide. Sixer?”

 

“Hm. We run the risk of the search party going there as an obvious place we might be, but right now it seems our best option to avoid these two.”

 

“If nothing else there are plenty of places around there to lose someone,” Rick said.

 

They remounted and sped off, careful not to let themselves be spotted. Fiddleford and Rick led the way. It was a tense ride, everyone on alert. They didn’t run into anyone else, however, and made it safely to the river.

 

“How many you think are looking for us?” Stanley asked, demounting.

 

“I’d imagine they’d use every available man,” Stanford replied, hopping down from his own horse and joining his brother at the riverbank. “I’m surprised we haven’t run into far more, however.”

 

As Stanley kneeled to splash water on his face Rick and Fiddleford came over. Fiddleford seemed especially on edge, glancing in every direction. Rick appeared nonchalant on the surface, but there were subtle signs that betrayed his facade. His shifting eyes, for one, and the little twitch of his hands towards the gun holster he had put on before they rode off.

 

“You know these folks better than us, fellas, what do you think?”

 

“Maybe there’s just a couple of them looking for us,” Stanley suggested. “It makes sense.”

 

“How do you figure?” Rick asked.

 

“For starters they probably don’t want everyone to know we ran away from them. If I know Preston and Bud, and I unfortunately do, their pride really is that large.”

 

“Appearances are everything to them,” Stanford agreed.

 

“Exactly. Not to mention pa— _Filbrick_ wouldn’t want us to cause him more shame. So they’re keeping it hush hush, except for a few they can trust to keep their mouths shut.” Stanley shrugged. “Probably underestimating us, too. Like usual.”

 

“Good. We can use th-that to our advantage.”

 

“It would be a blessing if that were the case,” Fiddleford agreed.

 

“Yes, though I’d still feel better if we didn’t stay here long. We should come up with a clear course of action.”

 

“Are we allowed any input this time?” Fiddleford wondered.

 

The twins shared a look. As one they shrugged and told the other men, “Sure.”

 

“But don’t expect us to listen.”

 

While they used Stanford’s map to show the path they’d taken to get to Gravity Falls, Stanley turned back to the river. He rolled up his pant legs, took off his boots, and dipped his bare feet into the water. It was instant relief. He silently lamented that he couldn’t shuck off all his clothes and jump in; Stanford had taken a look at his back before the other two woke up, and it was still a mess. Felt like it, too.

 

Stanley sensed someone come up behind him, then his brother warned, “Have you already forgotten what I told you, Sanchez?”

 

Stanley glanced back; Rick’s hand hovered above his shoulder.

 

“Last name means he’s serious,” Stanley teased.

 

Rick smiled and asked, “Can I touch you?”

 

“Eh, I’m feeling generous today. Go ahead. Just don’t get too handsy.”

 

Stanley winked and Rick’s smile grew. He sat beside Stanley, tossing an arm around his shoulders. Stanley let himself lean into the other man. As much as Stanley hated to admit it, he had missed Rick and their easy intimacy. A small sigh slipped out and he quickly cleared his throat to mask it.

 

“So, uh, we got a plan?”

 

“I was thinking you and I could sneak off to that thicket over there,” Rick suggested. Stanley rolled his eyes good naturedly. Behind them Stanford groaned.

 

“I should have let Jeff eat you.”

 

“You really know how ta press yer luck, Rick,” Stanley chuckled.

 

As Rick tried to defend himself Stanley turned back to the river. Something across the water caught his eye, up on the plateau. _Someone_. Aiming a glinting double barrel in their direction.

 

With more instinct than thought Stanley let out a warning cry and pushed Rick down just as a shot rung out, sailing over them. It narrowly avoided Fiddleford who, startled by Stanley’s abrupt holler, had stumbled into Stanford’s arms.

 

There was a pause that seemed like a year but couldn’t have been longer than a second as everyone processed what had happened. Then they scrambled to their horses. Thankfully all beasts let the men on without a fight and they rode hard upriver, Stanley tossing his boots in his lap. They took cover in the thicket.

 

“Fuck!” Stanley cursed. He took a deep breath then adopted that as a mantra. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!”

 

“Holy _shit_!” Rick agreed.

 

“I can’t believe your pa _shot_ at us!”

 

The twins shared a look. Together they said, “We can.”

 

“He was explicitly aiming for you two. We’re apparently still too valuable to him.”

 

“I hope you weren’t trying to be reassuring,” Rick said.

 

“Just stating the facts, Rick.”

 

“This isn’t the time, you two,” Stanley snapped. “We need to figure out what we’re gonna do.”

 

“Same plan as before—we’ll ride to the next town. We’ll just have to go the long way around,” Stanford answered.

 

“Hopefully we won’t run into—”

 

Fiddleford was cut off by a figure in the distance. Sheriff Powers.

 

“Sonuvabitch!” Fiddleford cursed. “Why’d I have ta open my big mouth?”

 

The sheriff raced between the trees in their direction. He was close enough for them to see his determined gaze trained right on them. They urged their horses faster.

 

“They’ll catch us if we all stay together,” Rick said. “We need to split up.”

 

“I’m not letting you and Fiddleford out of my sight!” Stanford quickly argued. “That’s what got us into all this to begin with.”

 

“Christ, Stanford, are you blaming us for Filbrick trying to kill us?”

 

“Well if you two had used your brains instead of running off like fools—”

 

“ _Enough_ ,” Stanley interjected, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the reigns. “Rick’s right, splitting up’s the best option. It’ll be easier to lose them that way. But no way in hell are you two leaving our sides.”

 

“But that means _we’ll_ separate.”

 

Stanley glanced over at his twin. There was a horrified look on his face, no doubt imagining every worst case scenario. He flashed Stanford a grin.

 

“No worries, Sixer, I think Rick’s capable of watching someone’s back.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure he’s not completely hopeless—”

 

“Such glowing praise, I’m honored.”

 

“I just don’t want you going off with him alone,” Stanford finished, narrowing his eyes at Rick.

 

“Listen, we’ve gotta split up,” Stanley said firmly, no room for argument in his tone. “But I ain’t going with Rick. You are.”

 

There were three distinct exclamations of _what_. Stanley couldn’t help his chuckle.

 

“Fidds comes with me, Rick goes with Sixer.” The others started protesting so he spoke over them. “This way we all have real incentive to come back. _Alive_.”

 

Powers was gaining on them, they could hear his horse sailing through the trees and bushes after them. Up head the thicket thinned out, and they spotted Filbrick riding hard on the other side of the river, eyes trained on the quartet. They needed to act now.

 

“Fine,” Stanford agreed through gritted teeth. “Fiddleford, please take care of my brother.”

 

“Of course, Stanford. Ah, try not to kill Rick.”

 

Stanford made a noncommittal sound that seemed good enough for the other man.

 

“Rick, look after Sixer. If you both come back alive I’ll let you kiss me again.” Stanley winked, and Rick grinned back.

 

“Th-that sounds like good incentive to me.”

 

Stanley caught his twin’s eyes.

 

“I’ll be fine, Stanford. So will you.” He smiled wide, and Stanford smiled back.

 

“You better be.”

 

“I’ll take care of fidds, too. See you in Boring Ridge.”

 

He nodded then motioned at Rick. Without another word passing between the four they split off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the shorter side, but just you wait for the next, action packed chapter.


	17. This Here Cliff Looks Mighty Steep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bond with their respective riding partner. Stanford and Rick find themselves between a rock and a hard place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy is this late, whoops. I just did not get it up last week, and this weekend I was too busy between family and power outages. But I definitely wanted to get this one out asap.
> 
> Besides some mild alcohol consumption there’s not much to warn about here. Oh, a bit of blood.

Stanley’s back throbbed in rhythm with his thighs. The soles of his bare feet ached. His body was exhausted and if they didn’t stop soon he’d probably fall off Chestnut. Fiddleford didn’t look any better. Sparing his companion a glance he saw the fatigue plain on Fiddleford’s face and how his hair was plastered to it by sweat.

 

They had been riding nonstop for a long time—too long. It was night now and the moon hung above them helpfully lighting their way. Sheriff Powers had followed the other two, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Filbrick for a while now. While he had never been as fast a rider as the twins, Filbrick was hellbent on getting his hands on them. Would it damn them to stop for a much needed rest? They needed to risk it either way or they were good as dead regardless.

 

There was no ideal place to stop, but at least they were covered on one side by a hill and they could see anyone approaching for miles. They gratefully dismounted and stretched out their sore muscles.

 

“I’m aching more than an antelope during mating season.”

 

“You’re a weird guy, Fiddlesticks,” Stanley said, shaking his head fondly.

 

After finally putting his shoes back on he started tending to Chestnut and Fiddleford did the same for his horse. They had held their own pretty well and Stanley vowed to reward them with their favorite treats as soon as they reached town.

 

Fiddleford had also held his own, and Stanley couldn’t help being surprised at how sturdy that beanpole kept proving to be. 

 

“You know, I can understand what Sixer sees in you,” he commented offhandedly.

 

“You do? What, uh, _does_ he see in me?”

 

Stanley chuckled. “A hell of a lot. That’s why he was so torn up when you disappeared.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The other man fell silent. Stanley could sense his warring emotions. A bitter part of him was glad Fiddleford seemed to feel at least a bit guilty. Mostly though he was just _tired_. And truth be told he did pity the pair for what they had been through. But that really didn’t erase his spite.

 

“Yup. Well, we should try and get some sleep while we can. You hit the hay and I’ll wake ya in an hour.”

 

Stanley sat down, back against the hill, and draped a blanket over himself. A moment later Fiddleford joined him. He was biting his lip and looked like he had something to say.

 

“What’s on your mind, Fiddle Dee Dee?”

 

“I just wanted to say that maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but we had ta leave! We were backed into a corner.”

 

“Listen, I ain’t gonna fault either of you for looking after yourselves, but don’t you dare act like it was your only option.” Fiddleford started to talk and Stanley cut him off. “And definitely don’t you act like this was all to protect us.”

 

Stanley tipped his hat in such a way that it obscured most of Fiddleford but he could still look out across the desert. Wind whistled through the hills. Fiddleford’s leg bounced.

 

“You weren’t the only ones backed into a corner, ya know,” Stanley very nearly whispered.

 

Just as softly Fiddleford said, “I…I’m glad you boys have each other. And I’m sorry. We could have left ya a note or something.”

 

“At the very least. Or, ya know, actually talked to us.” He could have been harsher, and part of him wanted to be, but maybe it was exhaustion that lessened his bite.

 

Fiddleford sighed heavily, and Stanley could feel the weight he was carrying around. Probably been carrying since that night he left his childhood home behind, only adding new guilts as they went along.

 

“I really do want you to know I care about you fellas an awful lot. Rick does too. And, well, maybe we were mainly looking after ourselves, but we want you boys to be safe, too. And I mean that.”

 

“I’m sure you do, Fidds. But ya gotta admit that you went about it in a shit way.”

 

Fiddleford sighed again; Stanley felt his weight grow.

 

After a moment of silence that hung tensely around them Fiddleford said, “I’ve done so many things, Stanley, _wrong_ things. Made so many mistakes. Sometimes I tinker around with the thought of this invention I cooked up one night. It erases memories—any ones you want! So if’n I wished to I could just forget all these things I’ve done.”

 

“Fiddleford?”

 

“Stanley?”

 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. For a genius, I can’t understand how any of that sounds like a good idea to you. Now get some sleep.”

 

Fiddleford chuckled. “Yessir, Stanley.”

 

“Pleasant dreams, Fiddlesticks,” he wished as the other man wrapped his blanket tight around him and closed his eyes.

 

Stanley gazed out into the darkness and wondered how his brother was doing. And Rick.

 

——

 

If nothing else, Rick and he shared a natural cynicism for when things seemed to be going too well. For Stanford he was sure it was due to years of living with the volatile Filbrick; who knew why Rick was this way. Their adventure so far had just strengthened their paranoia. Every moment of peace always seemed to have something dark lurking at its heels. What would it be this time?

 

For a good long while Powers had been hot on their tail. Then he had started falling behind. Eventually the pair lost sight of him completely. It should have been a blessing, but of course it meant they didn’t know where he was now. He could be watching from afar, or maybe hidden just on the other side of a hill. For that matter, perhaps Bud and Preston were waiting somewhere to ambush them.

 

And what of the others? Had Filbrick caught up to them? Did he have someone else with him, ready to shoot Fiddleford dead and do who-knew-what to his brother? What would Filbrick do if he only caught one of them? Perhaps his temper would flair—Stanley was good at igniting his ire—and he’d take it all out on Stanley.

 

Stanford was clutching Astra’s reigns so hard he felt his knuckles were on fire. He took a deep breath and forced his hands and brain both to relax. No matter what was happening to the others there was nothing he could do. He had to trust they’d be fine.

 

It was easier said than done.

 

“There,” Rick said, jolting Stanford out of his own head. He turned to the man he hadn’t even realized had saddled up next to him. He was pointing up ahead; there was a small cave opening.

 

They made their way over to it and, after popping their heads in to discover it unoccupied, entered. Due to the moon’s angle the cave was partially illuminated. It didn’t seem to go in too deep, but they staid close to the mouth regardless.

 

It was a relief to stop riding. Stanford had been so absorbed with worry he hadn’t realized quite how worn he was. Now that there was no adrenaline carrying him his body swayed dangerously. His insomnia last night had done Stanford no favors.

 

He lowered gratefully to the ground, leaning back against the rock wall. In here they were sheltered from the brunt of the wind, and as such it was merely cool as opposed to freezing. In fact, it was quite pleasant.

 

Stanford glanced over at his companion who stood at the cave opening, appearing deep in thought. Rick was peering out across the desert, though Stanford suspected he wasn’t really seeing outside of whatever was playing in his mind. Stanford felt a sudden and intense urge to break the silence surrounding them. He had nothing to say, though.

 

As if sensing this, Rick told him, “Get some sleep, Stanford. I’ll keep a lookout.”

 

Stanford nodded and tried to get comfortable. It was no easy task. In the end he staid sitting up against a relatively smooth spot on the wall.

 

Sleep didn't’ come quickly, but it did come eventually. It didn’t stay for long.

 

The moon had lowered in the sky but the sun wasn't quite ready to rise when his eyes opened again. Rick was still at the mouth of the cave, though now he was sitting and leisurely sipping from his flask. For a few minutes Stanford simply watched him. He seemed pensive, most likely worrying about the other two. Rick startled when Stanford softly called his name.

 

“Fuck! You should still be asleep.”

 

“I usually wake every few hours. Then it’s difficult for me to return to sleep, so I’ll take over lookout duty.”

 

“Nah,” Rick declined, capping his flask. “We might as well start moving again.”

 

“Shouldn’t you get some rest?”

 

“Eh, this isn’t the first time I’ve ridden w-while tired.” He stood and stretched. “Besides, it’ll be better to stay ahead of your sheriff and exes.”

 

“Never call them that again or I will shoot you. Though I can see your point.”

 

Stanford got to his feet and followed Rick to their horses. After whispering a quick promise to Astra—she’d get to rest soon enough, and a special treat once they reached town—Stanford hopped up in the saddle. He watched Rick rummage through his bags.

 

“Hold on, my flask’s about half empty. Should feel it up while I’ve got the chance.”

 

Oh. It had slipped Stanford’s mind how he and Stanley had reorganized the other men’s bags. Several important changes suddenly came back to him.

 

“What the hell?” Rick said, bringing out Fiddleford’s snuff box. He quirked his brow at Stanford and snorted. “Cute.”

 

Stanford smiled innocently.

 

Rick tossed it at Stanford who shoved it in his own bag, and resumed his alcohol search. Stanford tried to school his expression. It proved a difficult task, especially when Rick went rigid.

 

Turning slowly to the other man Rick demanded, “Stanford, where’s the rest of my booze?”

 

His voice was surprisingly calmer than Stanford would have imagined, giving the circumstances. Stanford found it very difficult to stop the smile on his face.

 

“In Fiddleford’s bag.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Well, we needed to divvy up the weight equally between horses.”

 

Rick sputtered incoherently for a second. When he managed to calm down just a fraction he asked, “Why wouldn’t you put it in my bag then?”

 

“There was no room.”

 

Rick narrowed his eyes. Without looking away from Stanford he mounted his horse. His simmering rage was apparent, and Stanford gave up on covering his mirth.

 

“Shall we?”

 

When the other man made no reply Stanford cheerfully started off.

 

They rode for several hours, not going quite as hard as before but certainly not trotting along at a leisurely pace. They spotted no signs of anyone, nor any indication anyone had been around those parts recently. Stanford wished that he could take comfort in that, yet worry and anticipation overruled.

 

The sun was high and bright when they stopped again. They took shelter from the heat beneath a few trees clustered close together. In minutes Rick was asleep. Stanford tried to keep his full attention on their surroundings, but soon his idleness was a distraction. He took the motor from his jacket; fiddling about with it helped to focus his thoughts.

 

Stanford brought out a few wires and other pieces he had admittedly taken from Fiddleford’s bag. As he tinkered about he kept an eye and ear out for anyone else.

 

Several hours passed without activity. Stanford was torn; either they were about to be ambushed or somehow had managed to shake off their pursuers. He hoped desperately for the latter but fully expected the former.

 

Eventually Rick woke on his own. His stomach grumbled loudly, and Stanford’s agreed with him. The other man searched through his bag, all the while complaining about his missing alcohol, and brought out some dried meat and cheese. Rick sat across from Stanford at a safe distance and tossed half of it at him.

 

“So I’m assuming we didn’t have any unwelcome visitors.”

 

Stanford shook his head as he bit into a piece of meat.

 

Further conversation fell to the wayside as they ravenously ate. Even when he was done Stanford was still hungry. They couldn’t deplete all their supplies, however, since they were still a few days ride from town. A bit of cheese and meat would have to do for now.

 

Stanford finished first and while Rick worked on his last bit of jerky he returned to tinkering. He was aware of the other man’s gaze on him. He expected Rick to inquire about what he was doing, or maybe come over and help. Instead he simply watched, not speaking up for what felt like nearly a half hour.

 

“So wh-what the hell is the bee in your bonnet lately, Stanford?”

 

Stanford spared the other man a brief glance before concentrating back on the wires.

 

“Do you mean my anger that two people whom I was foolish enough to trust abandoned my brother and I? Truly it’s a mystery.”

 

“I get your feelings were hurt.” Rick took a swig from his flask. “I’m talking about how overprotective you’ve been. More so than normal.”

 

“Is it so strange to be protective of my brother?”

 

“Seems more than the usual amount is all I’m saying.”

 

“What do you want from me?” Stanford snapped, tossing the wires down. He glared at the other man. “I’m tired of seeing Stanley hurt.”

 

“That why you want to start over?”

 

Voice choked Stanford said, “Yes. He’s protected me so much, more than you will ever realize, Rick. Now I’m going to protect him.”

 

“By leaving your home.”

 

“Home is a funny word, Rick. Ma told us once that home isn’t where you live, but who you live with. For me, my home is my twin.” Stanford gave a rueful smile. “I think Stanley would like home to include you.”

 

Rick snorted, took another swig.

 

“What about you? Fiddleford a part of your home?”

 

“He’s part of yours. And I think, yes, I’d like him to be part of mine. Even if you have to be part of it, too.”

 

Rick laughed and passed the flask. Stanford hesitated just a split second before bringing it to his lips and tasting the tequila inside. It was an unfamiliar burn, he was much more used to whiskey, yet it was a welcome pain.

 

Handing the flask back Stanford looked Rick straight in the eye and calmly promised, “If anyone ever dares harm my brother again they’ll forfeit their own happiness. I will make sure they regret their choices for as long as they live. That includes you.”

 

If Rick had a reply Stanford would never know. At that moment the sound of riders reached them. They whipped around and saw three figures coming their way: Sheriff Powers, Bud, and Preston.

 

In an instant they were on their feet and running to their horses. One of the men called out for them but they couldn’t make out the words. Not that they had any intention to listen, regardless.

 

They rode hard in the opposite direction. Up ahead was a mountain range and getting caught by it would only spell disaster. It spanned a good distance, however, and with their pursuers closing in there was no other option. Thankfully Rick spotted a pass.

 

Just as they reached it, however, Rick suddenly tumbled off his horse.

 

Stanford feared he had been shot. He glanced back but no one had a gun pulled out. It was a small relief.

 

Next to the pass was a towering pile of fallen boulders. Stanford quickly hopped down, directing Astra behind them. Then he grabbed one of Rick’s guns, pointing it towards the other men. Powers reached for his pistol. Stanford let off a shot that sailed over his head, but stilled his hand nonetheless.

 

Stanford’s hand was shaking. He knew he wouldn’t get of any sort of accurate shot. He glanced at his companion.

 

“Get behind the boulders.”

 

Rick, who had sat up and was clutching the back of his head, looked around. Judging by the expression on his face he noticed that his horse had gone on without him.

 

Stanford let off another warning shot. In truth he had been aiming for Powers’ shoulder but once again had missed his mark.

 

“That’s close enough!” The men stopped about twenty feet away. “Hands where I can see them. Good. Now should you make any sudden moves you will find a bullet lodged somewhere quite unpleasant.”

 

“Leanne Pines, we’re here to rescue you and your sister,” the sheriff called out.

 

A laugh bubbled out of Stanford before he could crush it. The audacity of it all was just too much.

 

“Look at those horrid clothes they have you wearing,” Preston sniffed. “Just atrocious.”

 

“Lower the gun, dear, and let us help you,” Bud said. “We don’t blame you at all.”

 

“We know these _vagabonds_ are behind all this. Come now, and let’s put all this behind us.”

 

Stanford rolled his eyes.

 

“Another word from either of you and you’ll both be swallowing lead.”

 

They seemed reluctant to listen but wisely shut their mouths. Stanford glanced again at his partner. Rick was still on the ground, one hand on the back of his head. He whistled at Stanford.

 

“Not doing half bad, Sixer. Find out which asshole threw a rock at me.”

 

“I told you to get behind those boulders.”

 

Stanford turned back to the men, making sure they weren’t about to do something stupid. Then he stared hard at Rick. For a second it seemed like he would protest, but finally Rick took cover. 

 

“It’s a bit aggravating that no one ever listened to me or Stanley until we had a gun.”

 

Now that Rick was out of their sight and immediate danger Stanford concentrated on the trio. Right now they were at a standstill. Stanford would shoot—and hopefully not miss again—should they try anything. Yet he could only shoot if he staid right there. The second they tried to escape the others would have ample opportunity to ready their own guns, and they would have the advantage since Rick and his backs would be to them.

 

There was another trail, this one leading up the mountain instead of straight. The rocks obscured it partially from the other men which would allow them a small head start. If they could just reach that they had a chance.

 

Stanford edged closer behind the rocks. There was a grim look on Rick’s face.

 

“Well this certainly isn’t the best scenario we could have found ourselves in. At least we have each other’s pleasant company,” Stanford joked. It felt hollow to his own hears, and didn’t lighten Rick’s expression.

 

Rick moved the hand from his head and Stanford saw the blood that slicked it. Not enough to be worried about in that moment, but certainly something to care for when they got the chance.

 

“I’ll hold them off, Rick told him, unholstering his second gun. “Get on Astra and get the hell out of here.”

 

“Rick, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say—which is impressive, considering all the nonsense you’ve spouted.”

 

“Damn it, Stanford, this isn’t the time for your sarcasm.”

 

“No, this is no time for your—”

 

Movement caught his eye and Stanford’s head snapped back to the other men: Powers was inching towards his pistol. With more instinct than though Stanford let off a shot that sailed right between the sheriff and Preston. He’d never seen the latter’s eyes so wide. Power’s hand went right back into the air.

 

“Congratulations, fellows, you’ve used up your last warning. And here I was trying to be generous.”

 

He edged even further into cover, now mostly shielded by the rocks but still able to see the men. He glanced at Rick again who seemed to be staring at Stanford with something like admiration in his eyes.

 

“Now Rick, are you ready to listen to my plan? We’ll have to be on the same page to get out of here safely.”

 

“G-goddamn it, Stanford, run and save yourself!” Rick snapped. The younger man just chuckled.

 

“Listen, Rick, my brother’s sweet on you. Meaning that even if I think you’re a pompous bastard who would be brilliant if you knew how to put down the bottle, I have to save you. For Stanley.”

 

Rick watched Stanford grab his arm and hoist him up. 

 

“That, that’s no way to get ahead in this world, kid.”

 

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not planning to stay on this planet, huh?”

 

Rick smirked and shook his head. He opened his mouth yet closed it just as quickly and snickered.

 

“Y-you’re both stubborn, annoying bastards. What’s your plan?”

 

Stanford grinned and reached into the bag on Astra’s flank. Rick kept an eye, and gun, on the trio as he rummaged around for exactly what he needed. 

 

“Your flask, please.”

 

“Oh, this should be good.”

 

Rick tossed him the flask, and Stanford doused the wooden gnome in tequila. He noticed the sad look on Rick’s face but chose not to comment. There would be time to tease him later. Next he opened Fiddleford’s snuff box and sprinkled a mixture of it and a few other herbs he had stashed in his monster studying equipment. They were something native to Gravity Falls and Stanford suspected nowhere else, and had magical properties especially when mixed like this.

 

“Alright, we’ll need to be ready to ride as soon as soon as I light this, because it will go up in flames quite quickly.”

 

Stanford mounted Astra and Rick hopped up behind him. Stanford eased them over just enough so he could see the other men. Rick twisted in the saddle with gun trained on them. Before they could react Stanford lit the the gnome on fire and tossed it at them. Instantly the gnome became a fireball. Flames rose high in the air and made a terrifying crackling sound that echoed across the land.

 

It took their pursuers a good few minutes to realize what was happening. Their horses were in a panic and they couldn’t seem to settle the beasts down. It was just enough of a head start to slip away.

 

Rick let out a whoop of disbelief and victory. Stanford laughed along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So should I apologize now for what happens next chapter or...?


	18. He’s Got the Look of Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another reunion, but of course these boys don't have a long reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to apologize in advance! Both for the ending of this chapter and for the fact it's so late. Honestly I'm going to say to expect this updated every other week from now on. I really do need to focus on doing things for the Stanchez Summer Sizzle. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Death.

When they had arrived in Boring Ridge it had been veering towards night. They found a cheap room at the inn and slept solidly. Neither Stanley nor Fiddleford woke before noon.

 

Feeling refreshed they asked around town, but it didn’t seem like the other two had made it yet. All they could do was wait.

 

Waiting was Stanley’s least favorite activity.

 

“Ya need ta relax, Stanley. Fretting over it won’t make the boys get here any quicker.”

 

Stanley glanced down at Fiddleford’s bouncing leg and quirked an eyebrow.

 

“How’s that working out for you so far?”

 

Fiddleford huffed and turned away, focusing on the drink he’d hardly touched. Stanley felt a little bad, but not by much. He took Fiddleford’s whiskey and downed it.

 

“I was going to drink that, you know.”

 

Stanley just grinned and waved the bartender over.

 

“Two more tarantula juices, my good man.”

 

Stanley looked expectantly at his companion. Fiddleford, rolling his eyes, slapped money down on the counter.

 

“You’re a peach, Fiddlesticks.”

 

“Mhm.” He took his whiskey before Stanley could down them both. Shaking his head fondly Fiddleford commented, “It’s like having Rick right here, only a bit more—”

 

“Charming?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Stanley winked, earning him a chuckle, and threw his drink back.

 

Fiddleford insisted on walking around town before Stanley got too drunk. Stanley agreed if only for something to do. Maybe it would make waiting more bearable. Besides, it was a good idea to grab supplies now so they could head out quicker once the others finally arrived.

 

It was strange walking into a general store. Stanley half expected to see Filbrick behind the counter, leveling him with a stoney glare. Instead it was a kindly older man who struck up a conversation with them.

 

“So are you fellas striking up permanently in Boring? It’s a quiet town.”

 

“Nah, just passing through.”

 

“Ah, gonna enjoy the open sky before finding yourselves someone and settling down?” The shopkeeper chuckled. “I miss those days.”

 

“Well, sir, I think we’ve both already found ourselves someone we’d like to, well, spend the rest of our days with,” Fiddleford admitted, cheeks pinking.

 

Stanley snorted at the toothy grin the old man gave Fiddleford.

 

“Are you planning on marrying my twin, Fidds?”

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if I could.”

 

Stanley clamped him on the back.

 

“You take that up with Sixer. Maybe I’ll put in a good word for ya.”

 

“I appreciate that, Stanley. What do you want?”

 

“Come now, can’t I innocently want to help love bloom?” Stanley returned with faux indignation. Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. “Buy me candy.”

 

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and told the shopkeeper, “A box of snuff, please, and a pound of—”

 

“Lemon drops.”

 

“Lemon drops. And jellybeans.”

 

“Coming right up, son.”

 

Stanley grinned. Fiddleford tried to ignore him, but his face went from pink to red.

 

“Here you are,” the old man said, handing him two bags of candy. “These for your sweetheart?”

 

Stanley couldn’t help his laugh at the expression on Fiddleford’s face. He looked ready to die from embarrassment.

 

“Thank you so much! Well we’ve gotta be going,” Fiddleford rushed, taking long strides towards the door.

 

Stanley and the old man shared an amused look before he followed his partner. Fiddleford had popped his head out of the shop. Now, with a squeak of terror, he jumped back in, knocking into Stanley. Stanley managed to steady them both and searched his partner’s pale face.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“ _Filbrick_.”

 

Stanley’s blood turned cold.

 

“Did he see you?”

 

Fiddleford shook his head and said, “But he’s heading this way.”

 

Stanley led Fiddleford back to the counter and smiled at the old man. Trying to keep his panic from showing he requested, “Do you have a back door we could go through?”

 

“You boys got yourselves into a bit of trouble, huh?”

 

“Ah, well, I suppose you could call it that,” Fiddleford replied as Stanley made a few noncommittal sounds.

 

“Come on, then,” the old man said, getting up and opening the door behind his counter. “Wait until you hear him in here then slip out the back.”

 

“You’re a real life saver, pal!” Stanley beamed. The pair hurried to the door and Stanley shook the old man’s hand with fervor.

 

“We really appreciate this, sir. Thank you so much.”

 

He waved them inside and gave them a reassuring smile before closing the door. It was dark back there save for a bit of light coming in from the room’s single window. Out of paranoia they staid in the shadows and waited, even holding their breath in anticipation.

 

It was an agonizing couple of minutes, but then they heard the door ring and the shopkeeper call out a greeting. Then came a gruff voice that made Stanley’s back tingle with phantom pain.

 

Filbrick wouldn’t have his gun out in a general store, of course, but how quickly would he draw if he knew they were in there? Stanley gulped and grabbed Fiddleford’s arm, dragging him quickly to the other door. First he cracked it open and surveyed the area; no signs of the sheriff or anyone else who’d be looking for them. They hurried out of there and to their horses.

 

“Sorry to cut your rest short, girl,” Stanley apologized, untying Chestnut. She nuzzled against his hand and he knew she understood.

 

They mounted up and rode out of town, taking the back way around the general store. Hoping Filbrick was still inside and not glancing out any window, they didn’t look back.

 

——

 

There had been no further signs of their pursuers. Rick and Stanford had reached the other side with no problem, though admittedly they were both ready to fall off Astra. Who was no doubt tired herself, especially with an added rider.

 

They’d been on that mountain trail for hours; afternoon had turned to night had turned to morning, and judging by the high and bright sun it was probably afternoon again. But _finally_ the trail ended. With renewed gusto they rode on.

 

There was something in the distance. For a brief second panic seized Stanford’s heart. The figure closed in on them, however, and Stanford let out a breathless laugh.

 

“Katrina!” Rick exclaimed.

 

Stanford slowed Astra and Rick hopped down, running over and embracing his horse.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me for long.”

 

“Your loyalty is impressive,” Stanford commented, riding over. Rick shot him a nasty look.

 

“Of course I”m loyal to my horse, Stanford.”

 

“I was talking to Katrina.” He looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry I never knew your name until now. It’s very lovely.”

 

Katrina snorted and butted her head against Rick’s. He gave her a quick once-over then hopped up in the saddle. He seemed rejuvenated.

 

“Let’s go, Sixer!”

 

He started off with a laugh and Stanford followed, grinning at his mirth.

 

——

 

By some small miracle it didn’t seem like they had been followed. Stanley and Fiddleford had ridden until sundown where they took refuge in a thicket. They were backtracking, hoping to run into the others before they galloped right into Filbrick’s grasp. The problem was they could be just about anywhere. Maybe even in the sheriff’s grasp instead. 

 

Stanley stood up on a hill surveying the still land. Fiddleford came up behind him with a water flask, insisting he have some. Stanley took it, more to stop his mother henning than actual thirst.

 

“Where d’ya reckon we start?”

 

Stanley wiped his mouth then grimly replied, “I got no idea.”

 

“We’ll find them, Stanley. I promise.” Fiddleford laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I know it’s daunting, but we just gotta have faith they’re—”

 

“Fidds!”

 

Out in the distance Stanley spotted movement. As the figures got closer they realized it was two riders.

 

“Well I’ll be damned.”

 

Stanley started waving wildly at them, Fiddleford soon joining. As they got closer Rick and Stanford waved back. Barely able to contain his excitement Stanley slid down the hill towards them.

 

When they were maybe five paces away Stanford hopped down and ran over, embracing his twin. Touching his brother physically, feeling he was real instead of some taunting mirage, made relief swell through him.

 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Stanford said. Stanley laughed.

 

“Me too, Sixer.”

 

They pulled apart and Stanley turned to Rick who was waiting patiently nearby. Grinning wide he swept Rick up and spun him around. Rick let out a startled laugh.

 

“It’s great to see you again,” he said before pressing their lips together.

 

While those two reunited Stanford glanced at Fiddleford, who had followed Stanley down. He was looking at the pair with an expression that might have been envy. For a moment Stanford was content to just watch him. Eventually though the space between them became overwhelming and he called out Fiddleford’s name, causing him to startle.

 

“Stanford! I’m mighty glad you’re both alright.”

 

“Agreed. It’s so good to see you again, Fiddleford.”

 

He seemed about to reply but Stanford didn’t give him the chance. He crossed the small distance separating them and pulled Fiddleford into an unceremonious kiss. It was sloppy and off center, and Stanford was probably pressing too hard, but it was _wonderful_.

 

There was laughter and some whistling, and they sheepishly pulled apart. Fiddleford was red and breathless, lips swollen; Stanford knew he was in similar shape.

 

“Yes, well, we should get moving,” he suggested, adjusting his glasses.

 

Sobering, Stanley told them about Filbrick. Stanford frowned.

 

“We’ll go around, then, to the next town.”

 

“Thankfully we already got supplies so we should be fine,” Fiddleford said.

 

“Great, then l-l-let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

They hopped on their horses and rode off.

 

——

 

The quartet had taken refuge in a small clearing that made the twins think of the woods around Gravity Falls for the approaching night. They had rode for several days with no signs of the search party and everyone was in high spirits. It really seemed like they had once again evaded fate. To celebrate Rick had brought out tequila and passed it around. The once full bottle had now just a fifth left.

 

As Fiddleford strummed a tune on his banjo the twins danced around together with drunken abandon. Rick laughed wildly, either at their foolishness or caught up in their merriment who could say. Stanford glanced over his shoulder and made a face at him. Rick countered with a rude gesture and they started to one up each other, Stanley laughing and egging them on.

 

“Can’t you boys behave?” Fiddleford chastised, grin at odds with his words. He stopped his strumming and asked, “Who wants to hear a song?”

 

There was a chorus of eager confirmations. Fiddleford took a sip of tequila, cleared his throat, then cracked his fingers. Ready now, he positioned his hands on Delilah’s neck and started a slow tune.

 

“ _Oh, the moon hung high in the dark dark sky when we rode away from our darlings. We didn’t make it far before they caught up—_ ”

 

“And saved your hides!” Stanley called out, and he and Stanford burst into giggles.

 

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and sung on.

 

“ _We rode hard and we rode long trying to escape their sheriff and pa. He’s a mean old man and a damn good shot—_ ”

 

“So we better keep our heads down!” Rick interjected, coming over to Fidds with a fresh bottle.

 

“You fellas make this so hard.”

 

Fiddleford took a gracious drink of the offered tequila before returning once more to his song.

 

“ _But oh their ma was sweet, and she’s a lady I’ll miss, but if she saw us again I think she’d probably shoot us, too_.”

 

Stanley and Stanford nodded fervently.

 

“ _With my hand on my heart—_ ” Rick slapped his hand on his chest, nearly breaking Fidds’ concentration. “ _I swear to that woman we’ll keep her babies safe. Come the fires of hell, we’d lay down our lives—_ ”

 

Suddenly the horses all let out cries of distress, reeling about in fear. While Stanley and Fiddleford rushed over to calm them the other pair popped out of the clearing to see what had spooked them. Their answer was coming at them fast.

 

“We need to go!” Stanford exclaimed, he and Rick scrambling back to the others.

 

Hopping onto Katrina Rick informed, “We’ve got company.”

 

“Filbrick or the sheriff?”

 

“Both,” Stanford answered through gritted teeth.

 

“Bud and Preston, too.”

 

They wasted no more words, riding out of there with a quickness. The men were hot on their heels, however, and a chilling voice called out.

 

“Leah! Leanne!”

 

The twins didn’t glance back. They could feel Filbrick’s furious gaze on the back of their skulls.

 

“What do we do?” Fiddleford asked, near panic.

 

“It might be standoff time,” Rick remarked, glancing at the twins.

 

Brow furrowing as the gears turned in his mind Stanford said, “If it were just Stanley and me we could out run them with no problem.”

 

“Running’s our best bet though, ain’t it?”

 

“If we can make it to the mountains I have an idea. But we’ll have to go on ahead. Do you two think you can—”

 

“If you have a plan go for it,” Rick told him. “But this time, leave us if you have to.”

 

With no intention to obey, the twins nodded and spurred their horses on. Soon both their partners and their pursuers shrunk behind them.

 

There was a pass between two mountains. The brothers knew what the other one was thinking and without a single word sopped a few yards in. Stanley turned to his twin.

 

“Science or magic?”

 

Taking a small device out of his jacket Stanford replied, “Science.”

 

He had kept toying around with spare material they had for the past few days, cobbling together a barely functional second motor. It had no leprecorn hair, no protection magic. He handed it to Stanley.

 

“You have a better arm.”

 

“Just give me the signal, Sixer.”

 

Then they waited.

 

It was a tense few minutes until the others came back into view. Rick and Fiddleford were barely keeping ahead of the posse. The twins held their breath.

 

“Turn it on now,” Stanford instructed.

 

The motor made a tremendous groan of protest, then whirred dangerously. It started steaming and was heating rapidly in his hand.

 

“Now!”

 

Stanley threw the motor just as Rick and Fiddleford reached the pass. It exploded, dislodging part of the mountainside. Rocks began to cascade down between the two groups.

 

A shot rang out.

 

Suddenly time went at half speed. Rick raced over to Stanley face etched in terror, stopping in front of him. He went rigid, eyes widening. Stanley looked past Rick, through the falling rocks, and at the gun in Filbrick’s hand.

 

As the last debris fell, obscuring the other men, time sped up. Rick’s hand was on his chest. He looked at Stanley with a twisted grin and tried to say something, but the words were all garbled.

 

“Rick?” Stanley whispered in disbelief. Then he was hopping down, hollering his partner’s name.

 

He caught Rick as the other man started to slide off his horse. Gently as he could he lowered Rick to the ground. A growing bloodstain glared up at him and Stanley hurriedly tore the shirt open. There was a small hole in Rick’s chest.

 

“Rick…” Stanley whispered again, sight starting to blur. “You stupid son of a bitch, don’t tell me you took a fucking bullet for me.”

 

Fiddleford came over and pressed his vest to the wound. He glanced back, most likely at Stanford, but Stanley didn’t look away from Rick, whose eyes were starting to glaze over. He took Rick’s hand in his and brushed back some of his hair.

 

“Rick, come on, you can’t do this. I thought—” He swallowed. “I thought we talked about you leaving me behind.”

 

Fiddleford checked Rick’s pulse, a strange look overcoming him. He placed a hand on Stanley’s shoulder.

 

“Stanley, I’m so sorry, but even if we had the proper supplies I don’t know what I could do. I can’t feel a—”

 

“Everyone out of the way,” Stanford interjected.

 

He knelt down on Rick’s other side, removing the lid off some jar. It wasn’t until Stanford scooped out a familiar salve that Stanley realized what it was.

 

“Will that work on something like this?” Stanley asked, tentative to let himself hope.

 

“We don’t have much left, but it might just be enough to bring him—ah, stabilize him,” Stanford answered carefully as Fiddleford lifted his vest.

 

He applied the salve, the milky substance smearing with blood into an off putting shade of dirty pink. Stanford scraped the jar for every ounce of ointment. The wound stopped bleeding, at least. They watched Rick’s prone body for a moment, Fiddleford’s fingers still on his wrist. Tears streamed freely down Stanley’s face.

 

Suddenly Fiddleford’s face was awash with jubilation. He took Stanley’s hand and replaced it with his own on Rick, and Stanley could feel the slow rhythm that had started back up. Stanley sobbed in relief. 

 

Fiddleford ripped his vest into strips and bandaged Rick’s chest as best he could. The man remained unconscious but breathing. It was shallow, but it was something. Stanley propped him up on Astra and climbed up behind him, wrapping his arms firmly around Rick. They rode out of there quickly, fearing how soon their pursuers might find a way around. Stanley frowned at every hard jolt or bump, and hoped Rick didn’t feel anything in his sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone still enjoying themselves so far? Awesome.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys deal with the aftermath of barely escaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high this chapter.

Wealth could buy a person anything, so long as they had enough. Which they didn’t. Not quite, anyway. The jewelry they had packed got them a room with no questions asked for a little while, but soon they’d have to move on. Stanley couldn’t help thinking of the Northwest manor, and regretted that he hadn’t gotten the chance to steal something.

 

It had taken a full day’s worth of hard riding to reach this town. As soon as they had gotten a room they’d rushed up and laid Rick out on one of the two beds. Fiddleford worked on him with Stanford’s assistance, Stanley pacing and fretting on the other side of the room.

 

“There’s nothing else we can do for him,” Fiddleford eventually announced, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

 

Stanley rushed over. “How is he? Is Rick gonna be alright?”

 

Stanford placed a gentle hand between Stanley’s shoulder blades. His brother turned to him with fear and desperation plain on his face.

 

“Stanley, Rick should live. Thanks to our salve. Without it he would without a doubt be dead.”

 

“Stanford you don't have ta be so frank about it,” Fiddleford admonished.

 

“It’s alright, Fidds, I’d rather heat it like it is,” Stanley said. “But I appreciate the concern.”

 

“Whatever you say, Stanley.” Fiddleford stood and stretched, back making an audible popping sound. “I’ll let you two have a moment while I get some air. Get me if anything happens.”

 

“Thank you, we will.”

 

“Yeah, thanks Fidds. For everything.”

 

He gave Stanley a soft smile and left.

 

“Alright Stanford, tell me everything.”

 

“Well, the salve mostly closed up his wound. We patched him up the rest of the way, leaving the bullet in there. It shouldn’t affect any of his organs. Thankfully the salve created a sort of barrier it seems, blocking the bullet off from anything vital.”

 

“Great. So when do you think he’s gonna wake up?” Stanford frowned, not answering. “Hey, Sixer, come on. I know you heard me.”

 

Stanford took a deep breath before admitting, “We don’t know, Stanley. Rick’s heart stopped beating for a moment. Now the salve revived his body, but maybe it couldn’t do the same for his mind. We just don’t know. I’m not saying to give up, just be aware that, well, it might not have been enough.”

 

Stanley felt his own heart stop.

 

Sensing his brother’s pain, Stanford took his hand and squeezed it. After mumbling an apology that sounded hollow to his own ears he left Stanley alone to process it all.

 

He gazed at Rick, watching his chest rise and fall. It was bare save the bandages. His face was pale and his hands, when Stanley took one tentatively in his, were just a bit clammy. There was hair plastered to his face.

 

Rick had never looked so vulnerable.

 

“Yeesh, Rick, you really did it this time,” Stanley murmured, voice wavering. 

 

Tears prickled at his eyes, threatening to spill out, but he willed them back. He rubbed circles on the back of Rick’s hand.

 

“That was a goddamn stupid thing to do. Filbrick was aiming at _me_ , so why the hell would you—” A sob escaped him. He took a deep breath, composing himself enough to continue.

 

“You don’t make a lot of sense, Rick. You run off without a word, not fucking thinking or caring what would happen to Sixer an’ me. Then you act like you couldn’t bear to be separated from me. Now you went and took a damn bullet for me. What’s a guy to think?”

 

Rick didn’t twitch. Stanley couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

 

“You bastard! You bastard, don’t you leave me. Not now. Please, Rick, you gotta wake up. I _love_ you.”

 

Stanley began to opening weep. He laid his head down, pressing his forehead to Rick’s hand.

 

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Rick. Pa’s always hated me. I always got on his— _Filbrick’s_ nerves. The only thing we’ve ever been good for to him is marriage,” Stanley snorted, “and we refused to do that. So now we’re really nothing to him.”

 

Stanley paused, lifted his head. He looked at Rick’s face. His own went blank for a moment as everything finally registered in his mind. 

 

“Sweet Samhain, Filbrick was going to kill me.” His face contorted as another sob overcame him. “It _should_ have been me!”

 

Stanley broke down, all coherency leaving him as he clung to Rick’s arm like a baby would their blanket. He clenched his eyes shut, but the tears flowed anyway. If he opened them he wouldn’t be able to see a thing, sight drowned. Stanley let himself cry until he was numb.

 

——

 

Stanford inhaled hard, trying to calm himself. He stood right outside their room, and his brother’s anguish was audible. He desperately wanted to rush in and embrace Stanley, to assure him that Filbrick’s actions were no one’s fault but his own, yet he knew he shouldn’t. Right now Stanley needed the release only crying could bring.

 

It was very hard not to go back in.

 

Fiddleford was coming back up the stairs. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, not noticing Stanford until he was right at the top. The hard look on his face instantly softened.

 

“If he ever hurts Stanley again I’ll kill him,” Stanford promised.

 

Then he was crying.

 

As soon as the tears started falling Fiddleford’s arms were around him, and Stanford pressed his face into Fiddleford’s collarbone.

 

“Hush now, darlin’, I’ve got you.”

 

“He was…he was going to take my brother away from me! And instead he may have taken Rick away.”

 

“Sh, sh, sh. Stanford, Rick’s a pretty hardy fella. Also far luckier than any one person has a right to be, in terms of cheatin’ death."

 

“Everyone dies eventually,” Stanford countered, voice low and muffled agains the other man’s shirt.

 

Fiddleford squeezed him tighter. For some reason the comfort brought on more tears which Stanford couldn’t stop.

 

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you. Just let it all out. Then we’ll go back in, and I’ll put you and your brother to bed, and I’ll stay up with Rick.”

 

“Y-you need your rest, too,” Stanford choked out.

 

“Don’t you worry about me right now, darling. You just focus on yourself and Stanley. He’s gonna need you.”

 

Stanford nodded. He let himself cry in a way he hadn’t for years, and certainly not in front of anyone other than his twin. True to his word, when Stanford had exhausted all his tears, Fiddleford wiped them away and led him back inside. 

 

Stanley was slumped half on the bed, clinging to Rick’s arm. Fiddleford woke him up and got both brothers into bed, then took up sentry beside Rick. For a while the twins watched him watching his partner, solemn gaze and worried creases on his face twisting their hearts. Eventually sleep claimed them, the exhaustion of it all having taken its toll.

 

——

 

Rick woke up early the next day. Fiddleford’s voice had roused Stanford, who in turn shook his brother awake. They were at his side in an instant.

 

“He’s lucid,” Fiddleford told them, not looking away from his patient as he checked on Rick’s pulse.

 

“Hey there, Rick, how’re you feeling?” Stanley asked softly. Rick turned to him with a grimace.

 

“L-l-like I got, fu-fucking shot.”

 

The words seemed difficult for him to get out, and the pain was evident on his face, but he was _alive_. Relief surging through him, Stanley swooped down and kissed Rick. 

 

“As heartwarming as this is, Stanley, you’re making his pulse quicken. At a mighty high rate, I should add.”

 

Sheepishly Stanley pulled away. Rick looked dazed, though he was smiling like a fool.

 

“He still needs rest,” Fiddleford informed, “but he’s well on his way to recovery. Don’t be surprised if he’s out of it for a bit, though.”

 

“All things considered I’d say it’s a vast improvement,” Stanford commented, adjusting his glasses as a means to hide the wide grin he couldn’t help.

 

“I’ll be right here if you need anything, Rick. Alright? Anything at all. I won’t leave your side.”

 

Rick turned and smiled up at him.

 

“Get under the covers with me.”

 

He winked. Fiddleford and Stanford sighed in unison while Stanley laughed.

 

“Your kiss must have healing properties,” Fiddleford teased.

 

“Family trait, ask Sixer about it sometime.”

 

The pair blushed a similar shade of red, and Rick chuckled weakly. Then he started to cough. Fiddleford hurriedly brought him some water and Stanley held the glass for him.

 

“That’s enough tomfoolery for now. Rick, you try and get some more rest,” Fiddleford instructed.

 

Rick closed his eyes without argument. Stanley staid by his side this time, shooing the other two off to the other bed. Everyone else was out fairly quickly. He held Rick’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the other man’s knuckles. He kept alternating between making sure Rick’s breathing didn’t stop and glancing over at the other two curled around each other. Stanley smiled and let himself feel hopeful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for what I've done to these boys. Especially for what's coming next. 
> 
> Only four chapters left.


	20. Fires of Death Chewing at Our Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inevitability catches up with the boys, and there's a showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to let you all see this chapter. Things get intense. The beginning scene is the last happy moment until the very end.

For the next few days Rick staid in bed and healed. They would have to move on the second Rick was well enough to ride. He was unconscious more than not, but when he was awake he seemed to be improving. Stanley hardly left his side. 

 

Fiddleford and Stanford had gone out to get supplies while Stanley staid behind with Rick. The latter was asleep so Stanley was entertaining himself. As much as he wanted to be at his partner’s side, he never had liked being cooped up much.

 

There was a mirror in the room, cracked where his head was reflected but overall usable. He admired his hair; he and Stanford had decided it was about time for a change, and Fiddleford had cut it for them. While he trimmed down the fronts, he left the back down to their shoulders. Fiddleford did a great job, and Stanley felt almost transformed.

 

Next he took off his shirt and examined his back. None of his wounds looked serious anymore, mostly all healed up. That nasty bruise on his side was now a fraction of its original size and a much better looking color. It didn’t even really hurt to touch.

 

Stanley turned back around and stretched, testing how far he could bend comfortably. He wasn’t as stiff as when they first rode out. All the hard riding and the obstacles they’d had to deal with didn't aid the healing process, however. Sleeping on hard grounds or rickety chairs didn’t, either.

 

Glancing over at the bed where his partner lay, Stanley smiled. It was all worth it.

 

Stanley closed his eyes and let himself get lost in thought. He wondered how ma was, and the girls. At least Susan and Carla had each other, and Susan’s budding romance, and he knew they’d take care of ma. He still felt a pang in his heart; those were three great women he’d never get to see again. They’d understand, though. He hoped.

 

He couldn’t help fretting about Filbrick. He worried Filbrick would direct his ire towards Shermie now. He wouldn’t dare lay a hand on ma. She had always tried to diffuse the tension between them, keep Filbrick from hitting him and Stanford, but she wasn’t always around. Filbrick knew how to take advantage of a few minutes where she wasn’t watching. That kid didn’t deserve to grow up with that hanging over his head.

 

Maybe ma would get away from him somehow. Go back to New Jersey. Or maybe Susan’s family would take her in, keep Filbrick away from her and Shermie. The sheriff might muscle in, though, stop her from leaving. He and Filbrick were close, after all, and Powers owed his position to him.

 

A pair of hands wrapped around his midsection, and familiar lips brushed against his neck. Stanley didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Rick. All the same he did, smiling at the reflection that had joined his.

 

“If you pull your stitches Fiddleford’ll have my ass.”

 

Rick squeezed his arms, puling Stanley flush against him. “Can’t, i-it’s mine.”

 

Stanley craned his head back just enough to kiss Rick. It was a drawn out affair, neither in a hurry to break apart. Rick parted his lips to let Stanley in and for a good few minutes he reveled in exploring the familiar territory.

 

When they finally came up for air Rick commented, “You got beat up.”

 

He ghosted his fingers over Stanley’s side. Stanley looked down, focusing on Rick’s hand rather than his face. He didn’t trust his usual lying abilities right then.

 

“Hey, it was a rough ride getting this far. Besides, I’m not the one with a bullet in him.”

 

Rick shrugged and pressed a kiss to the crook of Stanley’s shoulder.

 

The door creaked open and the other two walked in, arms interlinked. They didn’t pull away when they saw Rick and Stanley, and neither did they.

 

“Looks like our patient has risen. How’re ya feeling, Lazarus?”

 

“Fucking ready to get the hell out of here,” Rick retorted.

 

“Agreed,” Stanford said, “but you’re still not in the best condition.”

 

“We’ll see how you are in a few days,” Fiddleford promised. “We need ta take advantage of the time we have now.”

 

Rick rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As Fiddleford started his routine of examining Rick, the twins headed out for some fresh air. They walked side by side in amiable silence down the stairs. 

 

As the first floor came into view they stopped dead in their tracks, blood turning cold.

 

With his back to them, Filbrick was at the front desk talking to the innkeeper. Neither noticed them. 

 

“Yeah we got some guys like that here,” the innkeeper was divulging.

 

The twins slowly and silently crept back up the stairs. When they were out of the other men’s line of sight they raced to their room, barging in and startling the other two.

 

“What in Sam Hell?”

 

“Filbrick’s downstairs!” Stanley exclaimed.

 

“Of goddamn course he is,” Rick spat, shrugging his shirt back on.

 

“What’s the plan?” Fiddleford asked, leg bouncing as fast as a horse could gallop.

 

Stanley peered out the room’s sole window. There was no awning to jump down on or stairs to climb. They’d have to get crafty.

 

“We obviously can’t stay here,” Stanford answered. “Rick—”

 

“Don’t worry about me, Stanford. I-I-I, I’ll be fine.”

 

Stanford nodded and help Stanley push furniture in front of the door as Fiddleford started gathering up their things.

 

“So what’re we thinking?” Rick questioned.

 

“Remember when I showed you my knot tying abilities?” Stanley replied, already ripping sheets off one of the beds. 

 

With Stanford and Fiddleford’s aid they began to tie them together. Halfway through their endeavors there was a banging at the door. For a split second everyone paused and stared at each other wide eyed. Then there was another series of bangs and they quickly got back to work.

 

“Leah, Leanne, I know you’re in there,” Filbrick growled. “Open this door right now.”

 

“You got the wrong room, buddy,” Stanley called out, trying to disguise his voice.

 

There was a pause, then the door shook angrily as Filbrick tried to shove his way in.

 

“Well it was worth a shot.”

 

Filbrick didn’t give up, and his barrage on their barricade spurred them faster. Soon all the sheets in the room had been tied into a rope which Stanley secured to a bed leg before tossing the other end out the window. It danged just a few inches off the ground.

 

“One day we’ll be able to leave a town the easy, normal way,” Fiddleford commented, gazing down.

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stanley chirped. “Alright, Sixer, you first. Show them how it’s done.”

 

With an adventurer’s practiced grace Stanford slid down the rope. He waited at the bottom, motioning Fiddleford to follow.

 

“I used to climb trees all the time as a boy, so this shouldn’t be too different.”

 

Fiddleford climbed out the window, making it down without incident. Rick insisted Stanley go next so he did, waiting there for Rick.

 

“Go around and get the horses, make sure the other’s ain’t out there,” Stanley instructed.

 

They left and Stanley concentrated on his partner. Rick was coming down gingerly, a grimace plain on his face. Halfway down his hand slipped and he fell, thankfully into Stanley’s waiting arms.

 

“Maybe you should ride with me,” he suggested.

 

Ever stubborn, Rick declined and Stanley put him down with a sigh.

 

The other two came back with their horses and they hurriedly saddled up. Then the quartet rode out as fast as lightening. When they crossed the border out of town they heard another set of hoofs join theirs. _Powers_.

 

Before they could do something about him, Bud and Preston suddenly shot out from the side. The former nearly rammed into Chestnut, but Stanley veered at the last second which forced Stanford to do the same. Rick and Fiddleford, riding behind the twins, both came to a complete stop. 

 

“Sixer!”

 

“I’m fine,” Stanford assured. “But I do believe we’re in a bit of a bind.”

 

Everyone was at a standstill. Bud and Preston had weaseled in between the twins and their partners, and Powers had pistols drawn.

 

“Girls,” he called out, “be sensible.”

 

“Oh, I am beyond being sensible, you ignorant patsy!”

 

Stanley whipped out the guns on his belt and Stanford followed suit; Stanley had been holding onto Rick’s while he was recovering, and Stanford had theirs. Fiddleford was carrying, but one twitch towards his holster could very easily be his last.

 

“Fellas, get outta here!” Fiddleford urged.

 

“Hurry before Filbrick gets here. These idiots won’t harm you.”

 

“But they will you,” Stanford pointed out. To the sheriff he advised, “I suggest you let them go.” He was proud at how level he kept his voice, no trace of his incredible panic audible.

 

“I am a man of the law, and I aim to uphold justice.”

 

“The hell does justice even mean to you?” Stanley snapped. “I can’t tell if you even realize how corrupt you—all of you—even are.”

 

“Perhaps it helps them sleep at night, imagining they’re benevolent rather than just plain crooked,” Stanford mused.

 

Bud held up his hands and started, “Now why don’t we all just put these silly weapons away and talk? I’m sure once you hear us out you’ll realize—”

 

Stanley pointed one of the guns at him. His mouth clamped shut.

 

“You may not care about a gun pointed at your head, _sheriff_ , but I sure as shit know you need to keep these two doofuses alive.”

 

He trained his second one on Preston while Stanford kept his on Powers.

 

“Would you _really_ shoot me?” Preston scoffed.

 

“Do you really have to ask?” the twins returned in unison.

 

There were at a standstill. Everyone’s eyes were focused on the twins. They in turn kept looking back and forth between their pursuers. At one point Rick caught Stanley’s eye and nodded slightly. Before he could suss out Rick’s plans the other man set them into motion.

 

He reared Katrina up, startling Powers and his horse. The beast let out a high pitched squeal and knocked its rider back, one pistol flying out of his hand. As he tried to steady his spooked horse Rick and Fidds tried to make a break for it.

 

Before they could get far Bud managed to cut the pair off on the right. They started to turn but Preston charged, ramming into Rick who fell off his horse.

 

Without thinking Stanley let off a shot. It cleared Preston, sailing far too close to Fiddleford for comfort.

 

It was too late for another shot.

 

“Put your guns down.”

 

The twins were so conditioned to what would happen if they didn’t obey that tone that they had to force their hands to stay up. Filbrick glowered at them, and they didn’t meet his gaze.

 

He looked around at the scene. Powers and gotten control of his horse. Rick staid on the ground, hunched over and clutching his chest. Preston and Bud looked far out of their depths, probably surprised at their own quick thinking.

 

“Off your horse,” Filbrick barked, and Fiddleford readily complied, casting the twins an apologetic look.

 

Filbrick eyed them expectantly. They staid right where they were.

 

“Do you two know what you’re costing me?” the man growled. “This ends here.”

 

The twins didn’t speak, neither trusting their voice. It was all they could do to not shake in their saddles.

 

Filbrick narrowed his eyes and climbed down. As he approached Fiddleford and Rick, Stanford inhaled sharply while Stanley vibrated, suddenly overcome with rage.

 

“You touch one hair on their heads and I will show you hell,” he promised.

 

Filbrick drew his pistol and whipped it across the side of Fiddleford’s face. He staggered to his knees beside his partner.

 

“Fiddleford!”

 

“I’m fine, darling, don’t you worry about me,” he assured, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.

 

Preston and Bud inched away from Filbrick, shock and worry evident on their faces.

 

Stanford realized he was pointing his gun at Filbrick. His finger felt heavy on the trigger, and he desperately wanted to close his eyes and let that finger push down. Filbrick could never hurt his brother again then. Yet before he could Powers was at Rick’s side, gun trained on him.

 

“Do it, y-y-you fucking coward,” Rick snapped, leaning into the barrel.

 

Stanford glanced at his twin. Stanley was visibly shaking, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. He put a hand on Stanley’s elbow, giving his brother a margin of comfort. It was small but it was enough to help Stanley compose himself.

 

“Leave them alone,” Stanley said, voice not as steady as he’d like.

 

“Goddamn it you idiots, leave us and get out of here!” Rick hollered.

 

“Rick, please be quiet,” Stanford replied, glancing from Filbrick then back to his twin. He caught Stanley’s eye and both nodded. They took a deep breath and climbed down. 

 

“Let these two go and you can have us. We won’t fight, or struggle, or run off again. We’ll go back to Gravity Falls with you and marry these two sheepskins.”

 

Fiddleford’s eyes were disbelieving saucers. Rick looked ready to yell out again, but the pistol at his temple made him bite his tongue.

 

“Why would I ever agree to that?” Filbrick replied. “I have you both and this bandito trash.”

 

“Because you could have us compliant,” Stanford returned. “Which is what you really want.”

 

“Or you do this the hard way, and risk it all. And I swear, if anything happens to them—”

 

“Do not threaten me, Leah.” Filbrick pressed his gun to the back of Fiddleford’s head. Fiddleford closed his eyes and started mumbling what was most likely a prayer.

 

“Don’t!” Stanford exclaimed, chest tightening.

 

“Throw down your guns,” Filbrick ordered.

 

Seething, they obeyed. Rick shifted slightly, like he planned on doing something incredibly foolish. The twins shook their heads and he reluctantly stilled.

 

“You finally learned how to use your heads. Preston, Bud, grab those guns.”

 

“Us?” Preston squeaked. Filbrick shot them a dark look and they scrambled off their horses.

 

Bud started to say something to the twins as he scooped up their weapons, but the twins glared at the man, and he quickly shut his mouth.

 

Filbrick went over to his steed and pulled something out of his saddlebag. As he came closer, stopping just a few yards away, the twins recognized them as two of their dressed. The thought that Filbrick had been in their room at all sent a shudder through the brothers. They couldn’t dwell on that, however, as he tossed the dresses as their feet.

 

“You’re not wearing man’s clothing anymore.”

 

“What, you just expect us to change out here in front of everyone?”

 

“Don’t act like you have any modesty after consorting around like you have been.”

 

Filbrick leveled them with a hard gaze which Stanley matched. Stanford, however, went rigid. Stanley glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

 

“Sixer, behind me.”

 

Stanford nodded gratefully and grabbed one of the dresses, then retreated behind his twin. Stanley and Filbrick kept their eyes locked, neither breaking contact while Stanford changed. He twisted and contorted, trying to stay as covered as he could by Stanley’s frame. His face was hot when he came back out, and he refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

 

The twins switched places and Stanford forced himself to stare right back at Filbrick. Stanley didn’t try to be as conservative as he had been, tossing clothes off with abandon and letting everyone catch glimpses of bare skin. When he emerged from behind his twin, though, he similarly didn’t look over at Rick and Fiddleford.

 

The brothers glared daggers at Filbrick. He glared back. When neither averted their eyes he finally turned around, mouth practically in a snarl.

 

“We’re heading out. There’s still plenty of time before nightfall.”

 

Stanley and Stanford started for their horses but Filbrick stopped them.

 

“Both of you on one.”

 

They clenched their fists, but wordlessly climbed up on Chestnut. Stanford cringed as Filbrick ordered Bud to take Astra’s reigns. Then he laughed as she snorted indignantly and moved out of his reach. Bud tried again but the horse simply continued to jerk away.

 

“Calm that beast or I’ll shoot her,” Filbrick threatened, already raising his gun. Stanford instantly sobered.

 

“Astra,” he called with a whistle. She instantly trotted over. He pressed a calming hand to her face. “It’ll be fine, girl. I know he’s beneath you, but just go with him for a bit.”

 

She gave a horsely huff but, after Stanford have her an apologetic stroke, she went back over to Bud. This time she allowed him to grab her reigns.

 

They turned their attention to Powers who had bound Rick and Fiddleford’s hands together. Now he was attaching them to Filbrick’s horse.

 

“Y-you don’t actually expect us to walk.”

 

“If you try anything I’ll drag you,” Filbrick promised.

 

With that he approached their horses and slapped their flanks hard. The already unsettled beasts ran off.

 

“Let’s go,” Filbrick ordered, ignoring the twins who glared at him with all the malice they could muster.

 

Filbrick took point, Powers staying in the rear behind Stanley and Stanford. Preston and Bud staid a bit off to the side, both seeming like they had no idea how to react to the situation.

 

Stanley looked down as he felt a hand squeeze his. He gazed back at his brother who offered him a small smile that was more of a promise, though one it didn’t look like he quite believed himself. Stanley returned it shakily.

 

Then they cast their eyes ahead. It was slow going, and felt like a death march.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters left. Our heroes are in a bind.


	21. Watch the Fires Rise Under My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trek back to Gravity Falls. The twins seethe, and do what they can. 
> 
> Warnings for some transphobia, general misgendering, more child abuse, and choking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Been a bit, huh? Sorry about that, this would have been up last Saturday but I was too busy visiting my boyfriend in New York. (He was great, the subway was shit.) And this is up on a Monday because, hey, go easy on me I've been really sick. But now here it is, the third to last chapter!

The twins hadn’t spoken a single word since they had started off. Several times Preston and Bud tried to strike up conversation, and several times the twins stared ahead without acknowledging them. When the sun set the group stopped for the night. Stanley and Stanford sat close together, backs against a tree trunk and as far away from the other men as their captors would allow. They still didn’t say a thing.

 

Rick and Fiddleford were tied in an unpleasant looking position, on their knees and hands behind their backs. They seemed exhausted and miserable. Rick in particular had a perpetual wince and, while both were slouched, he was nearly doubled over.

 

Of course the twins weren’t allowed within several feet of the pair.

 

Eventually Preston and Bud approached them. They stared stonily ahead, ignoring the offered waterskins.

 

“You really should drink something,” Bud insisted.

 

“Dehydration is awful for the skin.”

 

Stanley pinched the bridge of his nose, but otherwise the twins didn’t respond.

 

“You ladies are probably mad,” Bud commented, and the twins snorted. Almost frantically he added, “And I can understand!”

 

“Yes, we can,” Preston agreed. Both brothers quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. “It must be difficult for you, so confused by your gentle hearts that you can’t bare to leave the banditos who tricked you into loving them. Even as you deep down crave to be wed to real men.”

 

The twins narrowed their eyes.

 

Bud, eyes oddly wide in either shock or fear, said, “I can imagine why you’d want to get away from home. Your pa is… _intense_.”

 

A similar look came over Preston and he nodded.

 

The twins glanced at each other. Well, at lest they were catching on to _something_. Didn’t change that they were narcissistic, power hungry scum that were partially responsible for their current predicament. Neither twin could muster up any sympathy for them.

 

“Anyway!” Bud said far too cheerily. “Best drink up. You girls must be thirsty.”

 

Stanford turned his head, glaring at the fire that had just started up. Stanley looked from the waterskin to Bud. Staring right at the other man’s eyes he pointedly shoved the waterskin away.

 

“Don’t be like that. You have to drink something.”

 

“Perhaps they’re just waiting until they eat,” Preston suggested. “Don’t worry, ladies, something will be whipped up momentarily!”

 

Thankfully the pair finally left them alone. The twins snuck a glance at their partners. They liked to think that Rick and Fidds were looking a bit better now that they weren’t walking, but the poor men were still drooped like a heavy weight was on their shoulders.

 

The scent of cooking meat hit the twins and their stomaches rumbled in unison. Soon Preston and Bud returned, this time offering cooked rabbit. Just as before the twins refused.

 

“Well now this is just getting ridiculous,” Preston huffed, voiced laced with irritation.

 

“Don’t be silly girls, you have to eat _something_.”

 

The twins glared up at the other men. Finally Stanley spoke.

 

“We ain’t eating until they eat.”

 

He jerked a thumb towards Rick and Fiddleford. Preston and Bud turned to them as the pair in question looked up curiously.

 

“I see now!” Bud sighed admiringly. “Ah, you girls and your bleeding hearts.”

 

“Is that all you wanted?” Preston gave a fond shake of his head. “How will we ever understand their womanly ways, Bud?”

 

Stanley and Stanford’s brows pinched together, but the other men headed towards their partners so they held back their retorts. 

 

With how the pair were bound they obviously could not feed themselves. Bud lifted a slice of meat and brought it towards Fiddleford’s mouth.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Everyone paused and looked at Filbrick like children caught breaking the rules.

 

“Just feeding these criminals,” Preston answered, an uncertain tilt to his voice.

 

“No,” Filbrick said simply.

 

“No?” Preston repeated, sounding very much like he had never had that word said to him.

 

“But the girls refuse to eat until these two do.”

 

“We’re not wasting our supplies on those good for nothing varmints.”

 

Stanley shot up, his brother following suit.

 

“What the hell do you plan on doing? Starve them?”

 

Filbrick settled his stoney gaze on the twins.

 

“Leah, Leanne. Sit down and eat.”

 

It was impressive how Filbrick could make such an innocuous command sound ominous. There was an unsaid threat to his words, yet the twins didn’t back down.

 

“You’ve pushed them to exhaustion already,” Stanford pointed out. “Without food or water you’ll kill them.”

 

No pity appeared on Filbrick’s face.

 

“I’m not telling you again. _Eat_.”

 

Wordlessly the twins stomped over to Preston and Bud, Stanley snatching the waterskin from the former. Staring Filbrick right in the eye he pressed the spout to Rick’s lips. Even though there was wariness all over his face Rick still drunk greedily. Then Stanley passed it to Stanford who did the same for his partner. Similarly Fiddleford seemed trepidatious but Stanford urged him to drink.

 

Filbrick stood and stalked over to the twins; they staid their ground, chins held high. Until Filbrick’s fist collided with Stanford’s face, knocking him backwards. Before Stanley could react there were unrelenting hands squeezing his neck.

 

“Don’t you touch him!” Stanford snarled, getting back on his feet. 

 

Without turning away from Stanley, Filbrick whipped out his pistol and cocked it at their bound partners. Preston and Bud took several steps back.

 

“For once you two are going to be quiet and you are going to be obedient. _Or else._ Do I make myself clear?”

 

The twins caught each other’s eyes and their defiance instantly deflated. In unison they said, “Yes, sir.”

 

Filbrick released his grip on Stanley and holstered his gun. Without another word he returned to the fire were Powers was roasting another rabbit. The sheriff hadn’t at all paid attention to the scene, but now called Preston and Bud back over. The pair walked past them, not even glancing at the twins. They were pale. Once again the twins couldn’t summon up any pity.

 

Stanley and Stanford returned to their spot, as well, before Filbrick’s ire was ignited again. Their partners were watching them closely but the twins couldn’t bare to look back.

 

——

 

After the sun set fully, when a chill settled over the land, Preston and Bud came over to them once more. This time they handed the twins a blanket. Their initial reaction was to refuse it; a sudden wind blew in, the trees shielding them little from the cold, and begrudgingly they huddled into its warmth.

 

“See how much nicer it is when you girls comply?” Preston commented.

 

“No more nastiness needed at all.”

 

Briefly they considered throwing the blanket right back in those dirtbags’ faces. Instead Stanley snapped, “Get the fuck away from us now before I sock you both.”

 

That shut them up quickly, Preston looking especially affronted. After the initial shock Bud simply shrugged, heading back towards the fire and taking his partner with him.

 

“I’m really gettin’ fed up with those two,” Stanley grouched.

 

“I was fed up the first time they talked to us as children.”

 

“I wish I could just push them into the mud like I did back then.”

 

“That wouldn’t solve anything now. In fact, I think that might have been what enamored them to us in the first place.” Stanley’s face scrunched up, and Stanford patted his arm. “Anyway, you should get some rest. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

 

“I don’t trust any of these crooked bastards enough to take our eyes off ‘em.”

 

“That’s why I’ll stay up,” Stanford told him. Stanley looked ready to argue and he quickly continued. “It would be wiser for one of us to get full rest, should anything happen. I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, you know how I am. Besides, I can sleep some while we ride.”

 

Stanley considered this a moment before reluctantly nodding. Stanford squeezed his arm.

 

“If any of them tries something wake me up,” Stanley told him, already closing his eyes and settling in.

 

It wasn’t long before he was snoring. He didn’t look very restful, but Stanford didn’t believe in miracles anyway.

 

He glanced first at the men around the fire. Powers was talking quietly, words too low for him to catch. Filbrick was staring right at him and Stanford quickly averted his gaze, instead focusing on Rick and Fiddleford. Awful was the best word he could find to describe how they looked. At least they seemed to be asleep, as well, Rick slumped against Fiddleford.

 

Guilt welled up in Stanford’s chest. Filbrick was brutalizing them to punish Stanley and himself. Rick and Fiddleford didn’t deserve to suffer for their foolheaded, desperate defiance.

 

Eventually the other men slept, Filbrick taking first shift. Not once did he take his eyes off Stanford. He was eternally grateful when Powers relieved him. Still, it was a very long night.

 

——

 

They set out with the rise of the sun. This time the twins rode on Astra, Stanford’s head falling against his brother’s back almost as soon as they started moving.

 

Powers saddled up next to the pair. Stanford didn’t stir, too exhausted and apparently feeling safe enough in his twin’s presence.

 

“How are you ladies doing?”

 

“Fuck off, lawman,” Stanley spat, staring straight ahead.

 

The man frowned.

 

“You may not fully realize this, Ms. Pines, but those men are dangerous criminals.”

 

Stanley turned slowly, meeting the sheriff’s eyes with a steely look, then motioned towards Filbrick and the other two.

 

“Trust me, I know.”

 

He hurried Astra’s pace just enough to leave the sheriff a horse-space behind.

 

It was hardly an hour after they started riding that something none of them had prepared for, or even thought about, happened.

 

Of course it was Preston’s fault. While Filbrick would have been fine with letting Fiddleford and Rick soil themselves as they walked, Preston had declared that inhumane. Not to them, but to him if he had to deal with the smell and _uncouthness_ of it all.

 

So Powers had taken the pair to relieve themselves. The twins gripped each other hard, anxiously waiting. For yelling, or maybe a gunshot, or _something_. All they got was the men returning a few minutes later.

 

They held their breath, expecting the sheriff to reveal the truth about Rick and Fiddleford’s bodies at any moment. Instead he gave them a brief look before they all set out again.

 

The twins shared a glance of confusion, then tried to catch their partners’ eyes. Rick and Fiddleford could only shrug.

 

Eventually Powers slowed his horse to ride side-by-side with the twins. Watching the other men to make sure they weren’t looking back he told them, “Your _boys_ ’ secret is safe with me, ladies.”

 

“Redemption is not a brief, mild kindness in a slew of horrors and oppression,” Stanford hissed in lieu of thanks.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“This doesn’t make you a good man, Powers,” Stanley translated, and then the twins refused to give him another word.

 

——

 

For several days they continued on like this. Each mile closer to Gravity Falls added a new bundle of dread to the twins’ hearts. Every attempt by Preston and Bud to win their favor fanned the fires brewing inside them.

 

They watched their partners carefully. The men were somehow still going. They seemed ready to keel over any second, but by some force—resilience, hope, spite—staid upright and moving. Rick was especially pale, but thankfully the salve’s magic had worked its wonders well enough to keep his wound from reopening. The twins had a feeling Filbrick would let him bleed out otherwise.

 

Every day and every night was about the same. The twins hardly spoke a word. Preston and Bud kept pestering them, regardless of the cold reception. Filbrick allowed Fiddleford and Rick the barest amount of water a day, and every other day a single meal that wouldn’t fill up an ant. Each night the twins switched off who would guard them until morning. They were quickly getting worn down.

 

It was Stanford’s night to stay on watch. Stanley had already passed out as had the majority of the party, leaving him alone with Bud. Which was slightly better than if it had been Preston. Much better than if it had been both.

 

By himself Bud was bearable. Not pleasurable by any means, but at least he spoke less—and the words that came out weren’t as offensive.

 

Right now he was using the tip of a knife blade to scratch dirt out from under his fingernails. The metal glinted in the firelight enticingly, and Stanford couldn’t tear his eyes away. A plan was forming in his head. Not necessarily a good one; it was incredibly risky and the chances of failure were high. And the consequences could easily put them in an even worse position than they were already in.

 

Yet it seemed once again foolhardiness was all they had.

 

Stanford took a deep breath and glanced at their sleeping partners. The sight of the worn pair steeled his nerves. After a brief check on Stanley, he called out softly to Bud.

 

The other man jumped, nicking the top of his middle finger. He stuck it in his mouth and came over.

 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean for you to hurt yourself,” Stanford said with as much faux concern as he could muster. His voice wavered just a bit; Stanley was the one who had skills in deception, not him. But he had to try.

 

Bud took his finger out with a pop and grinned. “No worries, little lady. Just a scratch.”

 

Stanford smiled faintly and replied, “That’s good.”

 

“I admit I’m a bit surprised you called me over. What do you need, Leanne? Water? Or if you’re hungry I’m sure I could—”

 

Stanford put a hand up and said, “No, nothing like that. I simply—” he eyed the knife as Bud slid it into a pocket, “wished to talk.”

 

Bud’s eyes lit up. He sat down in front of Stanford, leaning in eagerly. Low, as though he was afraid speaking too loud would make Stanford change his mind, he said, “Whatever’s on your mind, I’m willing to listen.”

 

Stanford licked his suddenly dry lips. It didn’t help.

 

“I…I hope I don’t come across as too forward.” Even half shadowed Stanford didn’t miss the hopeful gleam in Bud’s eyes. “It’s just that I’ve been doing some thinking.”

 

“Whatever’s on your mind, dear, you can tell me.”

 

The term of endearment made him wince.

 

“It’s just…you’re very different, Bud. From the others, I mean. Especially Preston.”

 

“Preston is certainly his own type of fellow.”

 

Stanford nodded adamantly.

 

“He’s a different breed. A richer breed. He has a particular lifestyle I feel more suited to St—my twin.”

 

“Leanne, what are you saying?” Bud whispered, drawing even closer.

 

Choking down bile Stanford asked, “Bud, if…if we were to marry you two, would you take me as your bride?”

 

Bud placed a hand on his cheek and Stanford tried not to flinch away. His thumb brushed gently against Stanford’s bottom lip.

 

“Leanne Pines, I would be honored to call you my wife.”

 

Then he was kissing Stanford. Again Stanford swallowed back down bile, thankful Fiddleford wasn’t awake to see this.

 

Sure Bud’s eyes were closed, Stanford put his hands on him. He started at the other man’s chest and slowly brought them lower, fearful that should he go straight for what he wanted Bud might catch on. It was an agonizing few minutes. Bud kissed him furiously. It made Stanford’s skin crawl, but he steeled himself, continuing the trek towards what he desperately needed.

 

_There_. He could feel the knife in Bud’s pocket. Very carefully Stanford’s hands roamed up and down his sides and thighs, trying to ease it out. After a moment it peeked out of the pocket and Stanford quickly snatched it up, hiding it under his dress.

 

Finally he pulled away. Stanford felt both victorious and dirty; whatever freed them was worth it, however.

 

A sour look came over Bud, and Stanford’s heart stopped.

 

“Forgive me for doubting you, Leanne, but it all seems a little too good to be true.”

 

“Ah, well, the best things in life often seem that way?”

 

Brow furrowing Bud said, “I’m sorry, Leanne, but I just don’t buy that. I see what you’re trying to do here.”

 

“Bud, I swear—”

 

He held up a hand, silencing Stanford.

 

“You’re just trying to blind me with your wiles and lower my defenses so you can find a way to escape. Now I don’t blame you, but I’m certainly none too happy.” He stood up, not looking at Stanford. “I think I’ll wake the sheriff up for his shift.”

 

As he turned, Stanford was filled with a fiery anger. He couldn’t stop the heated words that lashed out of him like a whip.

 

“Don’t you try to guilt me, Bud Gleeful! You and the rest of those bastards over there have done nothing but harass me and my brother! Yes, Bud, _brother_. You may not understand or accept it but we are both men, and we are not nor will we ever be in love with you. We will never be your wives.”

 

“You’re a very confused girl, Leanne Pines. You should get some sleep.”

 

Seething, Stanford watched Bud go back over to the fire and shake Powers awake. He gripped the knife tightly beneath his dress, hoping that their chance to use it would come soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that a happy fun chapter? No. No it wasn't. :)


	22. Ice is Crawling Up and Down the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter. I'm a little bit in disbelief that we've made it here.

Both twins were awake. Soon they would be in Gravity Falls once again. Their only hope was the forest.

 

“Jeff’s always keeping an eye out for us,” Stanley whispered to his brother, eyeing the other men. “Once he catches whiff of us he’ll do anything he can to take us for himself.”

 

“Giving us ample opportunity to free Rick and Fidds, then get far from here.”

 

Stanley flashed him a grin.

 

“If he tries to boil these scaly gaffs alive I ain’t stopping him.”

 

Stanford had to bite back an agreeing laugh. He snuck a hand into his dress to check on the knife. It was safe and sound, waiting eagerly for its opportunity to shine.

 

As time went on, however, the pair began to grow nervous. They weren’t heading in the right direction.

 

“Alright, you hold up!” Stanley called out, stopping his horse. The other men stopped, as well, Filbrick turning around to glare at them. “Where the hell are you taking us?”

 

“Back where you belong,” Filbrick growled. “Now start moving or I swear—“

 

“We should have gone west,” Stanford interrupted, ignoring Filbrick’s scowl. “It was a straight ride there.”

 

“You really think it’s your place to question me, Leanne?”

 

“I think we ain’t taking another step further until you tell us exactly where you’re taking us,” Stanley replied firmly. His twin nodded.

 

“Whoa now,” Powers interjected, moving between them. “Ladies, I assure you we are on our way to Gravity Falls. We’re simply going the long way around the forest. It won’t add that much time to our trip.”

 

“What!” the twins exclaimed in unison. “Why?”

 

“You know it too well.” With that Filbrick turned his horse around. “Now move, or else your pets don’t get water tonight.”

 

Grinding his teeth, Stanley snapped Chestnut’s reigns. He rode fast past Powers without a glance.

 

Stanford’s hands tightened around his waist. He turned his head a fraction and whispered, “Get some sleep, Sixer.”

 

“Our plan, though! What are we going to do now, Lee?”

 

The desperation in his voice twisted Stanley’s gut. He reached down with both hands and squeezed all twelve of Stanford’s fingers.

 

“This isn’t the end, Sixer, come on. We can’t give up that easily.”

 

He grinned wide at Stanford, summoning all the courage he could muster. At first Stanford simply gazed back at him, brow furrowed in frustration. Stanley just kept grinning, however, and eventually Stanford returned it.

 

“You’re right. Especially since we’ve made it so far. I rather like the taste of freedom.”

 

“There’s your fighting spirit! We…we can’t lose that, Sixer.”

 

“No, of course not. We’re not beaten yet.” He laid his head against Stanley’s back. “Wake me should we get any other surprises.”

 

——

 

Hours later they came up on the Sprott Farm. The man himself was tending to some pigs, and when he saw them hailed Filbrick. Stanley nudged his twin awake.

 

“I see you’ve wrangled your little troublemakers.”

 

“The young Pines girls are back safe and sound,” Powers confirmed. “Thank you for pointing out the way.”

 

The twins narrowed their eyes at the old farmer.

 

“No problem, sheriff, it was my duty. Though I think you’re too soft on them. I swear on my soul they’re witches and should be burned at the stake!”

 

Filbrick snorted. “They wouldn’t do me any good then.”

 

Filbrick rode on, and the others readily followed. The twins gestured rudely at the farmer as they passed him.

 

“Hope your farm doesn’t magically catch on fire again,” Stanley taunted.

 

“If you hear any mysterious words whispered in Latin, I do hope you’ll think of us.”

 

Sprott seemed truly terrified; it was a small victory but the twins savored it.

 

It wasn’t long until they passed into town. The sun was setting in Gravity Falls and few people were walking about. Those that were didn’t cast them a second glance.

 

“On your feet,” Filbrick ordered.

 

“Why?” Stanley questioned.

 

Filbrick advanced menacingly on Rick and Fiddleford, hand reaching for his pistol. The twins quickly dismounted their horses. Before they could react Powers was behind them, grabbing hold of their arms in a vice-like grip.

 

“What’s going on?” Stanford demanded.

 

“Some jail time ought to do you two some good. At least it’ll keep you out of my hair,” Filbrick answered coldly.

 

“Wait! What’re you gonna do with them?” Stanley asked, looking frantically at their wide-eyed partners.

 

“They’ll pay for their crimes.”

 

The twins yelled and struggled as Powers dragged them to the jailhouse. Too weak from the trek they could not break away.

 

“You son of a bitch!” Stanley snarled. He threw a punch, but the awkward angle kept him from landing the hit.

 

“I know you’re upset, girls, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t interfere with the law.”

 

“Not once has the law ever helped us,” Stanford said as they were pushed into the sheriff’s building.

 

Deputy Trigger sprung to his feet.

 

“Sir! You’re back.”

 

“Open a cell for me.”

 

Trigger hurriedly did so. The twins dragged their feet, but still Powers shoved them into the cell and slammed the bars closed.

 

“Now I’m letting you girls stay together, instead of putting you in different cells. Better for you to comfort each other.”

 

In lieu of gratitude, Stanley spat on his face. Calmly Powers wiped it off then turned around.

 

“I need to go prepare for the execution.”

 

The twins’ blood froze cold.

 

“Execution?” Stanford repeated, voice barely more than a wisp.

 

“As soon as morning comes, Rick Sanchez and Fiddleford McGucket will be hung.”

 

Powers marched out of the building without another word. Stanley gripped the bars until he was white knuckled, staring at the door in disbelief. He only turned when he heard a thud behind him. 

 

Stanford had sunk onto the hard cot, slumping against the wall. Stanley sat down beside his twin, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing.

 

“It’s gonna be alright, Sixer. It’s _gotta_ be.”

 

“I don’t know how. We only have a few hours until morning, with no idea where they’ve taken Rick and Fiddleford. Not to mention we are stuck in jail. I…I don’t know what to do, Lee.”

 

Stanley tried to put on a brave front, but quickly deflated. With a sigh he admitted, “Me neither.”

 

Stanford clutched at his chest where the knife was tucked away. They glanced warily at the deputy; he had dozed off in his chair.

 

“Too bad we can’t get out of here and slice his throat, then we could go find Rick and Fidds.

“Stanley,” Stanford spoke softly, and his twin turned back to him, “do you think that if you had the opportunity, you’d be able to kill Filbrick?”

 

He took Stanford’s hands in his and answered, “Gladly.”

 

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. 

 

“I meant ability wise, but I’m glad there was no hesitation.”

 

“Oh, right, he’s a good shot. But remember, everyone makes mistakes.”

 

“He already made plenty,” Stanford agreed, voice suddenly hard. Stanley nodded.

 

“They all did.”

 

“Now if only we could get out of this cell, catch them unawares.”

 

The twins looked around for any possible hope of escape. The walls and bars were solid, however. Together they sighed.

 

“If we don’t get out in time…” Stanley started, unable to finish the horrible possibility.

 

“We’d avenge them. After that, I don’t know.”

 

Stanley glanced at where the knife was hidden, commenting, “We’ll think of something if it comes to that. But we ain’t beat yet.”

 

“Maybe not, but soon they will be.” He sighed. “You know, right now all I want is to see—”

 

Suddenly the door flew open and in unison the twins exclaimed, “Ma!”

 

“My babies!”

 

Trigger jumped up looking quite befuddled. As ma rushed to them the deputy tried to stop her. She swiveled on her heels and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, glowering at the man.

 

“If you think you can keep me from seeing my babies, you better be prepared to taste the hand of death, deputy.”

 

Trigger held up his hands in surrender. Ma released him, patting his cheek.

 

“There’s a smart boy.”

 

Two other figures giggled from the doorway and came over to the deputy, taking his arms in theirs.

 

“Howdy, deputy Trigger!” Susan greeted exuberantly, tossing a wink at the twins.

 

“Why don’t you sit down right here with us while Martha visits with her twins,” Carla said, disguising the obvious order as a suggestion. 

 

The girls led him back to his chair, Carla sitting on his lap, while ma came over to the cell. Stanley and Stanford were already at the bars, disbelieving smiles wide on their faces.

 

“Ma! What’re you doing here?”

 

“I had to come see you two,” she answered, placing a hand on either’s cheek. “Carla saw you being dragged here and came to the Wentworth’s home to grab us. I left Shermie with her ma. We’ve been staying there since you two left.”

 

“I’m sorry we left without telling you anything first,” Stanford apologized sheepishly.

 

“Did you get our note?”

 

“I did, but Filbrick took it before I could hide it. I don’t blame you for leaving, sweeties, but I’m so happy to see you again.”

 

Though it was difficult she managed to kiss their foreheads through the bars.

 

“So, uh, about that note,” Stanley chuckled nervously.

 

Martha lifted their chins so she could look them both in the eyes. Firmly she assured, “Whether yer girls or boys, you are my babies and I love you. All I want is for you both to be happy.” She gave them a warm smile. “Those are some cute names you picked out. Let me guess—Stanford, Stanley?”

 

The twins beamed as ma pointed at either one, guessing correctly.

 

“You’re amazing, ma!”

 

“The names fit you. Now, we have more important things to focus on. Like getting you boys outta here.”

 

Even as a warmth swelled in their hearts at ma acknowledging their gender, there was still a pit of desperate dread.

 

“They took Fidds and Rick!”

 

“We aren’t sure where, but we do know that by morning they’re slated to be hung.”

 

Ma’s brow furrowed. “Those bastards. I swore ta Filbrick if he hurt any of ya I’d shoot him myself, and I damn well mean that.”

 

“Do you have any idea where he could have taken them?” Stanford wondered.

 

Shaking her head ma told him, “I have no clue. But don’t look so down! Yer ma has a plan on busting you at, at least.”

 

“Great!”

 

“And I think I have an idea how to save them,” Stanford announced, grinning. “Ma, this may be hard to believe, but there are creatures in the forest. The ones we need are called gnomes. They’re very tiny and wear red pointed hats—”

 

“Oh, ya mean those strange little men that run around the forest? Before I married Filbrick they tried ta make me their queen. Cute little fellas, but don’t know how to talk to a woman.”

 

Stanford and Stanley stared at her gobsmacked. Slowly they began to laugh.

 

“I guess Jeff has a type,” Stanley guffawed.

 

As they calmed down Stanford explained what they’d need. Ma nodded intently, promising to return soon. For the first time in what seemed a very long while, hope bloomed inside of them.

 

——

Through the small barred window in their cell the twins could see a sliver of sky. Stars were out and shining in abundance; there was no moon. They should have been napping while they could but between the uncomfortable conditions, Trigger’s watching eyes, and their own frayed nerves both were wide awake.

 

Stanford was leaning against his twin, feet dangling over the other end of the cot. He was staring out into the quiet night as Stanley glared at the deputy. The lawman himself wasn’t paying them much mind, casting constant glances at the door as though expecting powers to return at any moment. Truth be told it worried the twins that he hadn’t, either trusting Trigger’s competence, underestimating their resourcefulness, or readying the execution.

 

“Hey Sixer?” Stanley whispered, causing his brother to look up. “Not that I’m complaining, but why do you think they’re waiting until morning to hang ‘em? Why not do it now?”

 

Stanford’s face scrunched in contemplation. The gears turned in his head for a moment. Eventually he admitted, “I have no idea. Perhaps the sheriff, through some misguided sense of duty, didn’t want this to appear like a vigilante hanging. That wouldn’t look good on any of them, and you know appearances are everything.”

 

Stanley snorted. “That sounds like those pompous—”

 

Their musings were cut short by the door once again bursting open. Trigger was on his feet in a flash. He was then knocked off of them as ma reeled back and punched him square in the jaw. Something glinted on her fist; brass knuckles.

 

Before he could recover something flew at his neck, embedding itself there. Trigger tried to stand but only managed to swagger back down. In a moment he was out cold.

 

Carla looked at the blow dart in wonder. “Those little gnomes were right, this stuff _is_ potent. Too bad it’s hard to make.”

 

“I don’t think you even needed to punch him,” Susan commented, nudging Trigger’s limp body with her foot.

 

“I _wanted_ to.” Ma leaned over and ripped the keyring from his belt. “Alright, Stanley, Stanford, let’s go save your men.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale is gonna be wild. :)


	23. I know I'll Hear You Singing Underneath Those Lonely Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Preparing for an execution, fighting, a not too graphic gun injury, lots of guns waving around, some general misgendering and dead naming as par for the course.

Rick and Fiddleford watched their partners being drug away helplessly, a sinking feeling growing inside them that said this was the last they’d ever see of the twins.

 

As they disappeared out of sight, their yells of protest fading with them, Filbrick ordered the pair to keep moving. Exhausted and verging on delirious they didn’t struggle as the other men led them through the sleeping town. They ended in a part of Gravity Falls neither were familiar with. Filbrick dismounted and motioned with his gun for them to go into a little shed. Rick thought about spitting on the bastard as they passed him, but they hadn’t had water in nearly twenty-four hours.

 

It was very cramped inside, even more so when the door slammed behind them and the sound of a padlock clicked into place.

 

It was dark, save for a few holes in the walls and roof. It afforded them little illumination. They stumbled about in the darkness. Besides the floor there was a small bench to sit on, which Rick found by banging his knee on it. They both could just barely fit on it if they pressed together.

 

“Fuck,” Rick said hoarsely, letting his head thud back against the hard wood.

 

“There was no moon.”

 

Rick glanced at Fiddleford, though he could hardly see the other man.

 

“Nope,” he replied, resting his head against Fiddleford. It was the only comfort he could offer with his hands bound behind him.

 

“We’re going to die, Rick.”

 

“Probably.”

 

Fiddleford let out a deep sigh. “At least the boys are alive. They’ll find another way to escape this place again, I’m sure of it.”

 

“They’re pretty resourceful,” Rick agreed. “You should get some sleep, Fidds.”

 

He snorted. “Why waste the last few hours of my life?”

 

“Wh-who knows, maybe we’ll figure out way out of this. We’ve done it before.”

 

“You’re right,” Fiddleford replied with a forced optimism. “We better save our strength for our moment of sudden brilliance.”

 

They didn’t get any sleep.

 

——

 

It was nearing sunrise. Slivers of pink light streamed in through the cracks of the shed. Rick had never hated the sun more.

 

Beside him Fiddleford’s head was bowed, eyes tightly clenched as though trying to shut out their predicament. Rick knew what this was, even if Fiddleford’s hands weren’t in the usual position. For a moment Rick simply watched his partner pray.

 

He believed once, when he was a kid. Rick wished he could feel that sort of faith again but he was just too tired.

 

When the silence threatened to destroy the last of his nerves Rick finally asked, “Praying for your eternal soul?”

 

Fiddleford shook his head. With a heavy sigh he admitted, “I’m prayin’ fer th’ boys. I’m afraid what’ll happen to ‘em after we…after we’re gone.”

 

“Nothing good,” Rick mused.

 

The pair fell silent. Slowly Rick’s hands balled, ragged nails digging into his flesh; he desperately wanted to punch something until his fists went numb.

 

“I-I-I should have realized what kind of man Filbrick was the second I laid eyes on the bastard. I’ve seen enough of his kind.”

 

“Ya can’t beat yourself up over that, Rick. Just because you didn’t have a good mother doesn’t mean you have some sixth sense for awful parents.” If he wasn’t tied up he’d have put a comforting hand on his partner. Instead Fiddleford leaned over and pressed his forehead against Rick’s shoulder. “I wish we had known just how awful a man he is, too, but I don’t blame you or me for not realizing it. Just like I don’t blame the boys for not telling us.”

 

Rick sighed and unfurled his hands. Regret was useless now, anyway.

 

The shed door was thrown open and their heads snapped up. The figure was bathed in shadows, but as it loomed over them the pair knew who it was: their executioner.

 

“Get up,” Filbrick growled.

 

“Or what? Y-you’ll shoot us?”

 

Pain erupted across Rick’s face as Filbrick backhanded him. Then he was being pulled to his unsteady feet. He teetered dangerously, but the other man had a strong hold on the front of his shirt.

 

Fiddleford stood without any prompting, and they were marched out of the tiny shed. The sunrise assaulted their sensitive eyes. They weren’t allotted the chance to adjust. Shoved forward, the pair stumbled a bit but managed to stay upright. They trudged forward, led by the sheriff.

 

Instead of a procession of silence, they were forced to listen to inane chatter as Bud and Preston discussed first the exceptionally pleasant weather, then wedding plans.

 

“A double wedding, of course. I’m sure that would delight the girls.”

 

“Indeed. I’ve already marked several dresses for Leah to choose from.”

 

“Ah, so have I. There’s one in particular I know would look strapping on Leanne.”

 

“The one with a blue ribbon on the back of the bustle, and embroidered flowers down the skirt?” Bud hummed in confirmation. “I was leaning towards that one, as well. They would look splendid in it.”

 

Rick and Fiddleford shared a look of pure disgust.

 

“I can't wait to die so I don’t have to listen to this anymore.”

 

“This hogspittle is either meant to torture us, or the real means of execution.”

 

That earned both of them a butt of a pistol slammed into their backs, causing them to lurch forward and cry out in pain.

 

Finally they reached a familiar part of town. The dance platform was set up and suddenly they were back on the last pleasant time they’d had in Gravity Falls. Not just pleasant, _spectacular_.

 

Until the bastards beside them had ruined it.

 

Standing like a mockery to that day, a beam with two nooses hanging from it was attached to the platform.

 

Powers went up first. When Rick and Fiddleford faltered Filbrick pushed them forward none too gently. They walked up the steps with heavy feet, unable to do anything but let themselves be led to the rope. They stood there staring out at the waking town, and at the simple tools that would end them. 

 

“Rick?”

 

“Fiddleford?”

 

“I don’t want to die.” Rick shrugged with a forced nonchalance. Fiddleford tore his eyes from the waiting rope and gazed at his partner. “I love you, Rick, and I’m so glad you came into my life.”

 

“Yeah, same here.” In a few minutes nothing would ever matter to them again, because they would be nothing but dangling corpses. Rick turned and met his partner’s glistening eyes. “I-I love you too, Fidds, and I love Stanley.”

 

“And I love Stanford.”

 

“Hell, there are worst things to die for, right?” Rick flashed him a grin. “In the end we win, because we got what they want and will never have.”

 

Fiddleford let out a surprised laugh.

 

“That’s one small comfort, at least. Another is that they’re safe, and I know they’ll take care of each other.”

 

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, facing forward once again. He gazed past the taunting rope, out into the distant forest. “Ah-ah, at least they’re not alone.”

 

——

 

Back in their preferred clothing, Stanley and Stanford looked around the clearing they were waiting in. So far it was a clear skied, beautiful morning. 

 

It was almost like a dream. The twins tried not to think too hard about what they were about to do—overthinking might break their illusion of hope. What if it really _was_ a dream and they woke back up alone together in that cell, morning sun streaming in to mock them?

 

But ma was there, shotgun loaded and ready with a confident grin on her beautiful face.

 

“You look worried, boys.”

 

“Well, we are about to enact a risky, chaotic plan that is the last hope to save our partners from certain death,” Stanford pointed out, adjusting his glasses.

 

“Sounds like fun to me,” Carla quipped, coming up behind the twins and throwing her arms around them.

 

“A helluva way to say goodbye to Gravity Falls,” Stanley agreed.

 

Suddenly Susan burst into the clearing, Shmebulock on her shoulder. As she tried to catch her breath the gnome chattered rapidly.

 

“Whoa, slow down, buddy. Where were they headin’?” Stanley asked.

 

“Shmebulock!”

 

“We saw the nooses being set up earlier in the middle of town,” Susan added. “We don’t have much time.”

 

“Then let’s get this rescue started,” Martha said, twinkle in her eye.

 

The others nodded.

 

“Susie, you and Shmebulock go get the rest of the gnomes,” Stanley instructed. “Carla, ma, you go on ahead and make sure Rick and Fidds don’t meet their end yet. We’ll be there soon.”

 

“With Stanley’s history this shouldn’t take us long.”

 

“Laugh it up, Stanford, but this time you’re gonna enjoy me setting something on fire.”

 

Stanford hummed in agreement as the twins mounted their horses. With a quick goodbye the group went their separate ways, Stanford and Stanley heading towards the Sprott barn. It was deserted, no doubt everyone attending the hanging.

 

As Stanford set all the animals loose, Stanley ran into the barn. He grabbed the lamp hanging by the doors and lit it with matches Carla had given him earlier. Then he slammed it down beside the large pile of hay in the back. The glass shattered, and almost instantly it was set ablaze. Stanley hightailed it out of there, hungry flames licking at his heels.

 

He let out a jovial laugh as he raced by his twin, grabbing Stanford’s arm and running together to their horses. Stanford matched his laughter and they rode out towards the others, and their men.

 

——

 

The nooses danced somberly in the wind. There was a crowd gathered now, but Rick’s mind was too far away to hear what they might be saying. Condemning them or demanding their release it didn’t matter; no one could change their fate. Rick felt like his soul had already left his body.

 

Powers slipped the rope around their necks, Filbrick’s stony glare never leaving them. While Fiddleford didn’t meet his gaze Rick cast a quick, hate-filled glance. He couldn’t bare to look at him too long, however.

 

“As men, even criminals like you have the right to last words,” Powers announced.

 

“H-h-how noble.”

 

“I could think of a whole speech on how unjust this whole business is,” Fiddleford told him, holding his chin high even as it quivered, “but why waste my breath.”

 

Rick admired his partner’s bravado, futile as it was. It gave him his own spark of defiance, and he spat at Filbrick. Mouth still dry, however, it didn’t fly far enough to reach the stoic man.

 

There was a sudden commotion in the crowd, drawing the sheriff’s attention. Smoke spiraled high in the distance and the farmer that had stopped the group on their way into town started hollering about his farm.

 

“All available men with me to Sprott’s farm,” Powers instructed, voice booming over the noise.

 

He left their side, but as Powers moved past Filbrick the other man gripped his arm. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“Filbrick, there is a _fire_. I have a duty to stop it before it spreads.”

 

“You have a _duty_ to finally rid me of these vagrants before they manage to do any more harm.”

 

Powers narrowed his eyes, and for a moment neither looked away. FIlbrick won out soon enough, Powers’ shoulders drooping defeatedly.

 

“Sprott!” he called out, not tearing his eyes from Filbrick. “Grab my deputy. We’ll be along soon enough.”

 

He ripped out of Filbrick’s hold and stomped back over to the condemned men.

 

“Last words,” he ground out.

 

Rick and Fiddleford hardly dared to believe the budding hope washing over them. Maybe it was a coincidence, and a part of them thought back to the terrible fire that had ruined their lives once before—what if this time it was the twins burning alive?

 

Then something caught their eyes, a familiar movement of tiny figures, and the pair grinned.

 

Rick turned to the bastards responsible for the nooses hanging around their necks and told them, “L-l-lick my balls, motherfuckers!”

 

——

 

The twins galloped over to their ma and friends. Both Jeff and Shmebulock were there, as well. After dismounting they handed the reigns over to Susan then crouched down behind the barrels. They were a safe distance from the gallows while still keeping it—and their partners—in view.

 

Men came running by and everyone ducked, but they went unnoticed. The group were headed in the direction of the fire.

 

“Well, now or never, boys,” ma said.

 

The twins nodded and looked down at Jeff.

 

“Go make yourself useful for once,” Stanley told him.

 

“Anything for the women of my heart!” Jeff whistled, and the rest of the gnomes scurried out of their hiding places towards the gallows. He turned to them hopefully. “How about one little kiss for luck?”

 

Ma scruffed the gnome and tossed him as far as she could. Shmebulock scampered after him.

 

There was chaos. The gnomes swarmed over the crowd, making their way to the stage. Several latched onto Preston and Bud. The pair screamed and flailed about; Bud stepped back, foot going off the side of the platform. He grabbed onto his partner, but instead of steadying himself all he managed to do was pull them both over the edge. 

 

A few more gnomes jumped at the sheriff and Filbrick. The latter had drawn his gun, but one of the creatures grabbed his hand and bit down. Filbrick’s pained shout was just the cue they had been waiting for.

 

“Alright, ma, we’ll see you later,” Stanley said as the twins prepared to jump into the fray. They paused at her next words, however.

 

“No you won’t. Not if you succeed.”

 

It suddenly struck them how right she was. They turned to her like lost children.

 

“We ain’t got time for goodbyes, boys,” she told them, and they swore her eyes were moist. She pecked them both on the forehead. “I’ll always love you.”

 

“Ma…”

 

“We love you, too,” Stanford said.

 

“Oh, no reason to take on like so!” Carla spoke up. “What? You think once you escape with your men things won’t change around here? Hell, maybe I’ll be the new sheriff.”

 

“Now that I would love to see,” Stanford laughed.

 

“Alright, we’ll see you later. I mean it.”

 

Stanley flashed them a grin and then the twins were off.

 

Rick and Fiddleford were beaming by the time they reached the platform. Hopping up Stanford whipped out his nicked knife and started slicing away at Fiddleford’s bound hands as Stanley removed the nooses. Filbrick and Powers were occupied with the gnomes, leaving no resistance in their path.

 

“Miss us?” Stanley teased, winking at the tousled pair.

 

“Y-you have no idea, babe.”

 

“I’m so relived you two are alright—and that you came for us. I will say you cut it a little close, fellas.”

 

“Well sorry, but we had to break out of jail, start a fire, and get Jeff’s gang to help us out.”

 

“Always good to keep yourselves busy,” Fiddleford joked, trying to cane his head back far enough to see Stanford’s progress. “Darlin’, not to rush you, but maybe—”

 

“Hurry up already!” Rick snapped.

 

“This rope is extremely thick and this knife is rather dull so you’ll just have to be patient.”

 

“ _Patient_!” Rick and Fiddleford exclaimed in unison.

 

“Right, of course, no rush. Jut take your time!”

 

“We really should have thought about getting another knife,” Stanley mused.

 

“Yes, well, we can keep that in mind for the next rescue attempt.”

 

“I kinda hope we don’t have ta do this again.”

 

Stanford snorted. “With the way these two get into trouble—and the way we get into trouble—I don’t think this will be the last time.”

 

The other three conceded his point.

 

Suddenly Powers approached them, no longer covered in gnomes. His mouth was a thin, angry line. Thankfully he seemed unarmed.

 

“Girls, stop what you’re doing. I swear no matter what your father says, if you continue aiding these criminals you will be held accountable. The state will not spare you just because you're women.”

 

Stanford sliced furiously at the last strands of Fiddleford’s binding.

 

“You take one more step towards _my brother_ or our partners and you’ll taste my fist, lawman,” Stanley warned, cracking his knuckles.

 

Powers took another step, reaching out towards Stanford, and Stanley flew at him. Fist collided with jaw and the two went tumbling to the platform ground. Stanley was running on adrenaline and desperation; it was a good thing the sheriff was tired from their trek back to town and his scuffle with the gnomes.

 

They struggled against each other. Stanley remained on top, straddling the sheriff but barely keeping hold of his arms.

 

Stanford quickly scanned the crowd as he moved onto Rick’s binding. He spotted Shmebulock and called out for the gnome who quickly scurried over.

 

“Help Stanley!”

 

“Shmebulock!”

 

The gnome latched onto Powers’ face, giving Stanley the opportunity he needed. He let off of the sheriff who was trying to pry Shmebulock away. Stanley brought his leg back far then kicked him as hard as he could in the gut, causing Powers to double over with a deep grunt of pain.

 

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you, Powers.”

 

Stanley pushed him off the side of the platform. For good measure he even spit on the groaning man, then gave Shmebulock a thumbs up.

 

“You useless little _bitch_ ,” a voice snarled behind Stanley.

 

Before he could react there was a hand gruffly grabbing him and throwing him to the floor. Filbrick glared down at him with a rage heavier than he had ever seen before. Blood trickled down Filbrick’s face from a scratch under his right eye, his hair and clothes were all akimbo, and he was littered with dirt and wounds.

 

And for the second time in Stanley’s life his father was pointing a gun at his head.

 

Stanford acted on instinct. He lunged at Filbrick with a wild howl and sliced at his hand holding the gun. It left a shallow scratch. Filbrick recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest. Stanford didn’t give him time to recover. He tried to stab Filbrick’s hand but the other man twisted and the blade went into his shoulder instead.

 

“You will never touch my brother again, you bastard!”

 

He tried to wrest the gun from Filbrick’s grasp but he stubbornly held on.

 

Stanley glanced from his brother to their partners. Fiddleford, tearing at Rick’s half sliced binds, motioned towards Stanford. Stanley nodded gratefully.

 

He grabbed the knife sticking out of Filbrick and twisted, eliciting a holler full of pain and fury. He jerked away from Stanley, nearly tearing the blade out.

 

Stanford didn’t let go, still pulling at the gun. Filbrick refused to give up easily. He flailed about in an attempt to shake Stanford off, but when that didn’t work he let out a sound like an agitated, half rabid wolf.

 

“You two have caused me nothing but trouble since the day Martha became with child!”

 

He smashed his fist agains the side of Stanford’s face, stunning him long enough for Filbrick to shove him to the ground.

 

“You’re no prize of a pa yourself!” Stanley returned, hurtling at him. Their hands locked and they began to grapple. “You’ve done nothing but hate and torment us since we were born! That’s not gonna happen anymore.”

 

“For once in your miserable life you’re right.”

 

Then Stanley’s legs were kicked out from under him and his back slammed against the platform floor. Filbrick cocked his gun, pointing it at the twins.

 

“This ends now.”

 

A shot range out.

 

The bullet pierced Filbrick’s hand before any of them had time to react. There was the briefest of confused pauses, then Filbrick fell to his knees screaming and clutching the bleeding limb, gun clattering uselessly to the floor. Stanley scrambled to his feet and kicked it as far as he could off the platform, towards the gnomes who were already hurrying back to their forest.

 

The quartet looked out in the distance to see ma standing there with her shotgun, barrels smoking. She flashed them a grin and called out, “Time ta git, boys.”

 

The four returned her grin before jumping down from the platform. Susan stood just off to the side with Chestnut and Astra. They ran straight to her, barely slowing as they hopped up on the horses. They were hardly settled into the saddles before the horses started galloping out of town, and they waved quick goodbyes to the girl.

 

One of them started laughing loud and free, and the others joined in.

 

Rick wrapped his arms tight around Stanley’s midsection and Stanley turned around, pressing their lips together.

 

“Not two minutes free and already—” Stanford began. Then Fiddleford’s own mouth was on his, and the words were forgotten in the wind.

 

As they crossed out of town two horses raced towards them. The men could hardly believe their eyes.

 

“Katrina! Told you she always comes back to me.”

 

“And my Honeysuckle! What’re the odds?”

 

“Hey, didn’t we prove yet that Stanford an’ me are pretty lucky?”

 

“You fellas kidding? We’re the lucky ones,” Fiddleford said, kissing Stanford again like he needed it to live.

 

“For having us?” Stanley guessed with a snicker.

 

“Yup,” Rick agreed. Just like Fiddleford, Rick kissed Stanley as though being apart was death.

 

The twins focused on their respective partner, trusting their horses to ride just fine without their full attention. They had time to make up for, and they weren’t in any sort of hurry anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks, that's the end of this story. I can hardly believe I made it so far, and I'm amazed I even had an audience for a western involving two characters from different franchises, neither of which are westerns. This is quite possibly the most niche fanfic I've ever written. And it was supposed to be just a few chapters long. XD Thank you all for reading! 
> 
> And incase anyone's worried about Filbrick trying for revenge or some such nonsense, a shotgun to the hand isn't healthy. So the boys are fine on that front. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a longer fic, by the way. It was supposed to be a much simpler affair, but ahahaha nope.


End file.
